


Nostos

by blackeyedqueen



Series: Nostos [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amnesia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sheith Big Bang 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 01:06:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 27,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11910015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackeyedqueen/pseuds/blackeyedqueen
Summary: Nostos:homecoming; the idea of returning home from a long journeyThe first time Shiro meets Keith is in a high school library.The first time Keith meets Shiro is in a hospital room after waking up from a three week coma.Keith meets Shiro when he’s 23 and his life has been flushed down the drain.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> [Art by the wonderful maikasa!](https://twitter.com/sun_god_rising/status/901462115344502788) please go look and retweet it'S BEAUTIFUL.
> 
> [i made a spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/122602227/playlist/2NWlbFOXGOakUGVswmPm2E) if u wanna get real emo.
> 
> WOW. I can't believe I did it :o
> 
> A disclaimer: There are medical inaccuracies here. Some are because I tried to research and couldn't find what I was looking for and made things up on the fly. Others for the sake of the story. So I'd like to apologize if that bothers anyone, I hope it doesn't turn you off! 
> 
> A big big big thank you to my betas and best friends, Jack and Gema. They kept me on task and made sure i did the words good. I owe them a lot.
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy!

The first time Shiro met Keith was in a high school library. It’s a very cute story, where Keith was a new student who needed help finding a book, and Shiro, who would help out in the library during his free period, helped Keith find the book he was looking for. It’s a story about a boy who was a loner, a bit of an outcast, that got shoved into lockers, and the handsome jock who sticks up for this kid he helped in the library. The kid doesn’t want the jock’s pity or attention, but gets it anyway. It’s about a boy who didn’t think he needed anybody until someone came along and showed him it’s okay to need people and that he didn’t have to be alone. It’s about two boys who can’t believe they came together in the end. It’s a raging slow burn full of pining, stealing glances, lingering touches, and the words _I love you_ always on the tip of their tongue. It’s the kind of sappy yet burning romance that love stories are made of. And it’s Shiro’s favorite, one he knew by heart and one he’d never forget. But this isn’t that story.

 

The first time Keith met Shiro was in a hospital room at Altea General after he sustained severe head trauma and woke up from a three-week coma. It’s kind of a sad story, about Shiro losing the man he loves and the man he loves losing himself. It’s a story about falling apart, but just _maybe_ , falling together again. It’s a slower burn, harder to catch fire when for one of them, the foundation and groundwork is already there and been built upon, and the other must start from scratch with the blueprints that he doesn’t remember designing. It’s a story about finding yourself amidst pressure to be someone you don’t know. It’s a journey.

 

Keith meets Shiro when he’s 23 and his life has been flushed down the drain. This is _that_ story.


	2. I.

Waking up. Why is he waking up? His body feels so heavy and so, so tired. The room is too bright. What time is it? Doesn’t matter. He’s so, _so_ tired. He sleeps more.

 

But the next time he wakes up he’s still tired. The room is still too bright. His body still feels too heavy. He can’t even squeeze the hand in his ( _Who’s holding my hand?_ ). He sleeps again.

 

This happens a few more times. His eyes open to an over bright unfamiliar room. He feels heavy. Sometimes there’s a man there, sometimes a nurse, sometimes no one. He doesn’t have the energy to react. More sleep.

 

There’s no real moment of sudden wakefulness and understanding. Just slowly becoming more and more aware. The room is a hospital room. He feels funny probably because of drugs. He’s intubated because he couldn’t breathe on his own. There’s a feeding tube because he’s been too out of it to eat on his own. There are lots of other tubes and wires all around him that make him think of himself as some kind of weird sci-fi experiment. There’s a thick heavy cast on his left arm. Sometimes he’s in pain, especially in his head, neck, and chest. He’s in pain because of some kind of accident.

 

There are few things he ever does become aware of as he continues to try to shake off the overwhelming exhaustion every time he opens his eyes. What accident? When was the accident? What’s his _name_? And who is the man always in the room?

 

It’s a little unnerving to have a complete stranger hold your hand and look at you with so much hope but so much worry. Especially when you can’t tell him you don’t know who he is because there’s a tube shoved down your throat (God, he can’t _wait_ for that thing to be gone). But the hand in his feels nice. He likes it when the man sweeps his hair back and rubs his temple soothingly. Plus, the man is _really_ good at noticing he’s in pain and hitting the call button so the nurses can give him more drugs and he can sleep more.

 

The man calls him Keith.

 

“Hey, Keith,” he says sometimes when Keith opens his eyes. He has a nice soft smile, a really handsome face, and kind eyes and he’s exactly the type of man Keith would be aesthetically attracted to. The man squeezes his hand and sometimes Keith squeezes back.

 

One time he wakes up particularly confused, probably from some really vivid drug induced dream that he doesn’t really remember, but he still feels shaken, confused, and scared. And he’s in _pain_. How long had his last dose been? His limbs don’t cooperate and it _hurts_ to move them too much and it hurts his neck and his head and everything just hurts. He doesn’t notice he’s crying until the man is wiping his face and telling him, “You’re gonna be okay, I called the nurse, everything will be fine, Baby.”

 

 _Baby_.

 

Apparently, this man wasn’t _supposed_ to be a stranger, though he probably could have guessed that from the fact that the man spends the entirety of visiting hours there. And that makes Keith cry more.

 

When he’s finally off the feeding tube and the ventilator, it’s a relief for multiple reasons. One, that thing is fucking uncomfortable, and it never felt like he was really getting enough air or breathing at the right pace. His chest felt lighter being able to breathe on his own terms again. But this also meant that he could tell someone that he _doesn’t know who he is_. He doesn’t know his name, where he’s from, and who this guy is sitting next to his bed every day.

 

Well, he _still_ can’t talk, because apparently endotracheal tubes fuck up your vocal chords or something and it takes a few days. Of course. So, when he opens his mouth to try to say _something_ he’s hushed and told not to push himself, just to relax. Everything will be fine, they tell him.

 

It doesn’t feel fine.

 

It feels like torture.

 

It's another two days before someone comes in and decides to assess his brain injuries to find out the full extent.

 

"He seems to be fine, though," the man next to him says.

 

"Well," the doctor says, "we just need to check and make sure." She flashes the man and then Keith a quick smile before she begins.

 

"So, have you tried speaking yet?" She asks Keith.

 

He meekly shakes his head no. He wanted to at first, he swears he did. He had so many questions, so much confusion swirling around in his brain. But then he really thought about the issue at hand. He didn't remember anything; not who he was, not where he was from, no family members, nothing. He didn't remember the kind man who was always next to him and doting on him, but he knew this man must be important. And it scared him. His mind was completely wiped clean. What was that going to mean for him? Starting everything over? Trying to piece together some metaphorical puzzle pieces inside his brain? Letting down the guy sitting next to him, telling him, "Hey dude, I know we're somehow important to each other, but I don't know you, sorry!" How was he supposed to deal with this? The best way, at the moment, was not to. Simple as that. More sleep, rest his voice, deal with it when he has to.

 

The man had commented, brushing his bangs back later that day, "You're not usually one to do as you're told," a small, almost playful smile on his face.

 

Keith just sighed and closed his eyes. Back to oblivion he went. A problem for another day.

 

Well now that day has come and his doctor is about to ask him questions he doesn't want to face yet. He hopes the heart monitor doesn't start going berserk.

 

"Well, that's good!" She says after he shakes his head. "Most patients are pretty impatient to try to speak. I'm glad you let your vocal cords rest. They may still be sore, but we have to answer a few questions, just to assess the extent of your brain injury. Standard procedure for coma patients," she explains, flashing him another quick smile.

 

"Let's begin," She says, pulling out a clipboard and a pen. "First question. Can you tell me your name?"

 

He feels his heart jump into his throat. His name. His name that he only knows because the man that visits him says it. He clears his throat.

 

"Keith?" He croaks, says it like a question but not an answer.

 

"Alright, and your last name?"

 

Last name? Shit. _Shit_. He's never heard the man say it. He couldn't even guess. He opens his mouth, not knowing what to even think, let alone say, and then closes it again. He hears his heart monitor speed up a little. Shit!

 

The man grasps his hand. "Does your throat hurt, babe? Do you want some water?" He's looking at Keith with such a concerned face and Keith knows it's about to get really awkward. He's about to completely ruin this guy's day, there's not way around it, and he hears the monitor speed up more. But he nods anyway. A distraction. Water. Buy some time.

 

Shiro brings over the ugly pink plastic cup and brings the straw to his lips. He takes a sip, the water cool and refreshing. He takes another. He tries to down the whole cup. Buy some time.

 

"Whoa, there. Don't wanna make yourself sick." The man takes the cup away. Shit.

 

"Alright, Keith, you okay?" The doctor gives him another encouraging smile. He can feel the panic settling in, can hear it in the monitor, but he nods anyway.

 

"Alright, hon. Can you tell me your last name?"

 

Keith knows that he must look like a deer in headlights, his eyes wide and confused, his brows knitted together, his face heating up. He has to bite the bullet.

 

He shakes his head.

 

"No?" The doctor confirms. He shakes his head again.

 

"Keith?" The man next to him squeezes his hand. Fuck, Keith doesn't want to hurt him. The man then looks to the doctor with worried eyes.

 

"Nothing to worry about yet, could just be a foggy spot. Let's continue."

 

 _My whole life is a foggy spot_ , Keith wants to say. But he doesn't. Next question.

 

"Can you tell me your birthday?"

 

He shakes his head.

 

"Alright..." The doctor scribbles on the clipboard. "Do you know where you live?"

 

He shakes his head again. This is it. She has to realize by now his head is messed up.

 

"Alright, Keith, everything is fine, calm down," she smiles at him again, trying to comfort. He hadn't realized how fast he was breathing or how fast his heart was pounding. "This isn't entirely uncommon for head injuries. Let's try a different kind of question. What year is it?"

 

This one he knows. He thinks? He knows it's 2000 something. 15? 16?

 

17, a part of his mind supplies.

 

_Oh great, I know the year but not who I am._

 

"2017," he says.

 

"Good!" The doc says. The man is squeezing his hand again. It's starting to get sweaty. He wants to pull away but doesn't.

 

"What's two plus two?"

 

"Four."

 

"Alright, good." The doctor scribbles on the clipboard a little more, then looks up at them again. "Keith, it seems, as you already know, you're suffering from some memory loss.”

 

"Amnesia," The man next to him says. Keith looks over at him. He looks shocked and confused and worried all at once. He doesn't look okay.

 

"Yes. Retrograde Amnesia. This sometimes happens as the result of head trauma. The good news is you seem to remember basic facts, like the year. But you seem to have lost your personal memories. But don't worry, I know it sounds scary. A lot of the time, people get their memories back. Or if they don't, there are a lot of support groups and counselors you can talk to to help."

 

She smiles encouragingly again, which Keith would really like her to stop doing, she writes again on the clipboard, says she thinks that's all for now and bids them a good afternoon.

 

She leaves Keith alone with the man next to him. Keith doesn't say anything. He doesn't know what to say.

 

Luckily, the man starts.

 

"So... Amnesia." Their hands are really sweating now, but the man has a firm grip and doesn't seem to want to let go. Keith doesn't have the heart to pull away.

 

"Do..." The man starts, not looking at Keith but fixated with something on the floor it seems. "Do you remember... Me?"

 

Keith stares at him a moment. He wants to say no, but he thinks between the soreness in his throat and the lump that's starting to form, that isn't a good idea. So, he shakes his head again.

 

The man is crushed. His free hand comes up to grip his hair as he puts his head down. And the next thing Keith knows his shoulders are shaking. He's crying. Oh no, he's crying. And Keith doesn't know what to do.

 

"I'm sorry," he croaks, barely a whisper, but the man hears him anyway, head shooting up. There are tear tracks on his cheeks but he wipes them away quickly.

 

"No, no," the man says, "It's not your fault... God, I just..." He sighs, looking away again before continuing. "I just... I was so afraid I was going to lose you. It was really close, Keith. But then you woke up and I thought everything would be okay. The doctor had mentioned that she would still need to fully assess any lingering effects from the injury, but just... You woke up, and you looked at me, and you squeezed my hand and I knew you were alright. Or at least, I thought I knew..."

 

"Sorry..." Keith croaks again. "Um... your hands feel nice though. You--... It was comforting."

 

The man gives him a weak smile at that. "Well. That's good to know. I'm glad."

 

"I'm sorry I couldn't say anything sooner..."

 

"No, no, I know you really couldn't. I'm just... I'm just a little shocked."

 

"Tell me about it."

 

The man chuckles a bit at that. After a moment, he looks at Keith and says, "You know what, it's gonna be okay. We'll get through this. I don't wanna sound crazy or anything, but I did some research while... While you were out about different types of brain trauma. Most of the time people get their memories back. It just might take some time. But until then, everything will be fine." He smiles at Keith and Keith smiles back. At least the man is optimistic. Keith hopes he can be, too. He really hopes it'll all be okay. It has to be. Right?


	3. II.

The man's name is Shiro. He re-introduces himself to Keith after he brings them back lunch from the cafeteria. It's awkward, holding his hand out for Keith to shake and his cheeks are bright red with blush. He's nervous. Keith kind of finds it endearing.

 

"God," Shiro says, "It feels like I'm in high school again."

 

"High school," Keith repeats. "Is that where we met?"

 

"Yep. I was a senior, and you were the new kid, sophomore. We met in the library. You wanted help finding a book, but only after you came in three days in a row looking for it and couldn’t find it.” Shiro smiles at the memory. Keith is torn between being warmed by Shiro’s fondness, and irked that he can’t remember his _own_ memory.

 

“It took me three days to ask for help?” Keith is only mildly surprised. It took him until he was forced to confront his memory issues before he let on that he had any. He seems stubborn.

 

Shiro chuckles. “Yes. And then when I tried to help you out with bullies, you’d think _I_ was the one in the wrong. You always want to handle things yourself, first and foremost. You got a little better with asking for help over time, though.”

 

“I was bullied?”

 

Keith can see the tension creeping into Shiro’s body language, in the way he breaks eye contact and reaches back to rub his neck. But Keith can't feel bad for bringing up what seemed to be a sore subject. He deserves to know about his own high school experience.

 

“Uh, yeah… Those guys tried to beat on you. But you really handed their asses to them, and they didn’t seem to bother you much after that.” Shiro smiles at Keith after that, pushing away the tension.

 

“Hm,” Keith hums, “sounds like I didn’t need a prince charming to save me.” He smiles at Shiro, who in turn grabs Keith’s hand and squeezes it. And all at once Keith is once again hyper aware that Shiro is a stranger to him. A stranger who is holding his hand. Keith tries not to let it bother him.

 

“Hey, I didn’t know! You always kept to yourself. No one knew much about you. I was just trying to do the right thing.”

 

“So how did we become friends?”

 

“Well. You spent a lot of time in the library, usually during my free period, which I also spent in the library. I noticed you were doing some math problems wrong. I offered to help, but then you very firmly told me you didn’t need my help. But a week later you failed a test and _very reluctantly_ asked for help.”

 

“Well at least I’d rather ask for help than fail.”

 

Shiro chuckles. “Surprisingly, yes. That’s when I found out you were trying to get into the school I was going to, for the same major. So we became study buddies. And then regular buddies. And then more than buddies. The rest is history.”

 

Keith adores-- while is simultaneously envious of-- the soft look on Shiro’s face. Shiro loves this story and Keith can see it. Shiro loves their memories together. Keith wishes he even knew them, let alone loved them.

 

“Speaking of high school, how do you feel about visitors? Pidge, Lance, and Hunk have been asking to visit you like crazy but wanted to wait until you’re ready.”

 

Lance, and Hunk, and… _Pidge_? They must be people from high school. Friends perhaps? Shiro must notice the confusion because he quickly clarifies.

 

“Sorry, sorry. They’re good friends of yours. You also met them in high school, and managed to stay in touch through college. They’ve been really worried about you. They wanna make sure you’re okay.”

 

Keith wasn’t sure how he felt about meeting more people from his clouded past and was hesitant to agree, but then Shiro mentioned it might help jog some memories. And he really would love to remember something so he can stop hearing about his life like it’s a story. So he agrees.

 

Visiting hours come to a close. Shiro leans down to kiss Keith’s forehead, but decides against it at the last minute and goes for a hug instead. The hug ignites some soreness but Keith ignores it. Shiro is still reeling from his boyfriend not remembering anything from their past _years_ together. He’s gotta cut the guy some slack. But he can’t deny the relief he feels once he’s finally alone, looking forward to the relief from the awkwardness.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning Keith finds himself up earlier than usual and decides to bask in the gentle reprieve before his day gets overwhelming, which he knows it will be. Between Shiro coming to visit, now knowing Keith doesn’t remember him, along with more “friends” Keith doesn’t remember, he’s already mentally exhausted. But he has an hour before visiting hours start where he can relax and enjoy the solitude.

 

Keith could not force a single useful memory about himself or his past to come to fruition. He did not know his favorite food, his favorite television show, or if he even _liked_ TV. He couldn’t remember the last book he read. Or the last five books. Or if he’s even read five books. He couldn’t remember friends, or family. He couldn’t remember where he lived. It was all infinitely frustrating and made him feel empty in a way that he doesn’t think he’s ever felt before (but obviously, he doesn’t know if that’s true). It seems foolish to be hopeful that people from his past would jog something in his memory. If the man, Shiro, the man who he was supposedly in love with, could sit by Keith’s bedside for weeks, and remain painfully unknown to him, then Keith doesn’t _truly_ believe that old friends from high school will do anything for his foggy past. But there is a part of him that _is_ hopeful. There is a part of him that wants to believe this can all be over soon and things can go back to normal, whatever normal is supposed to be. He wants to believe that this empty feeling inside of him can dissipate sooner, rather than later. He knows it’s a foolish hope, but there is a part of him that needs to hope it happens.

 

He tries to force himself not to dwell any further on it. The situation is starting to turn his stomach and make his palms sweat. Things will either clear up or they won’t there is nothing he can do about this for now.

 

A nurse doing rounds comes in some time later. He smiles, checks Keith’s vitals, writes on a clipboard,  asks if he needs anything. Keith shakes his head no and then learns that visiting hours will be starting in about 15 minutes. So he rests his head back against his pillow, stares up at the ceiling, and wills himself to be ready for the upcoming day.

 

Shiro enters with a small smile and two coffees. Keith wonders how he takes his.

 

Shiro hands him the cup and Keith sips. It’s sweet and warm and he likes it enough. That’s when Shiro sheepishly says, “I don’t make it quite the way you like it. I always mess it up somehow, but I hope this is close.” Keith doesn’t know how it’s supposed to taste, but it’s good enough so he smiles and says it’s fine.

 

“So the gang will be here later this afternoon. Hunk works so early. Pidge and Lance were probably up late so they’ll be coming later with Hunk.”

 

“Where does Hunk work? And why are Lance and uh… Pidge… up so late?”

 

“Well,” Shiro says, getting comfortable in his chair by the bed. “Hunk works in a bakery. And he is _amazing_. You love his sweets. Everyone loves his sweets. Oh, god, and his _bread_ … So good.”

 

Immediately, the thought of bread didn’t seem very appealing to Keith. Neither did sweets really. He wondered what kind of sweets he preferred from Hunk, but decided not to ask. Perhaps he could find this one out for himself.

 

“As far as Lance and Pidge go, they’re night owls. On their days off they stay up all night playing video games, and given it’s the weekend, they won’t be conscious before the afternoon”

 

Keith hummed in response, not really having anything to ask. He didn’t want to bombard with too many questions about everything. He’d rather find the answers on his own. But then the conversation died down and Keith was starting to regret not trying to expand on it more.

 

“Where do Pidge and Lance work?” He asked instead.

 

“Pidge works in IT. She’s like, a computer genius prodigy. Lance tends bar, so he’s always up all night anyway. In fact, I think he’s getting up especially early to come visit you. He’ll probably make sure to let you know that, too.”

 

Keith looks over to the clock on the wall. It’s just quarter after nine. He has a feeling he’ll be watching the clock for the next few hours, anticipating their arrival.

 

These will be the first visitors Keith has had besides Shiro. Which raises another thought in Keith’s mind. Does he have any family members? He debates if he wants to ask; he doesn’t want to bring up an awkward conversation, but he doesn’t want to be left in the dark on something that seems important. They’re obviously not in his life or surely they would have visited, right? Keith wants to know if it’s this way by choice or not.

 

“Shiro,” Keith begins, clearing his throat. “I’ve kind of noticed that… there hasn’t been any _family_ to visit me…” A look crosses Shiro’s face. His eyes cast downward and he gets a little rigid. So it’s not good, whatever it is. Keith leaves the question in the air, hoping to not have to pry the information out of Shiro.

 

“Well,” Shiro says, taking a moment to gather his words. “Keith, you didn’t have a very good family life. You faced a lot of neglect growing up. Your parents didn’t really treat you well... Then you ended up here, in your aunt’s care. She loved you very much,” Shiro smiled at that, a fond memory of Keith’s aunt. But Keith noticed the past tense usage there. He’s almost glad he doesn’t remember her so he doesn’t have to grieve over the impending news.

 

“She passed away a few years ago, unfortunately.” Shiro looked away, a bittersweet look on his face.

 

Keith didn’t really know what to say. It obviously still upset Shiro. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

 

“Yeah, me too. It’s a shame you don’t remember her. She was a wonderful woman. If you can’t remember any of us, I hope at least some day you remember her.”

 

Keith suddenly feels ashamed that he forgot this woman. She must have been really important to him, possibly more important than Shiro, but Keith couldn’t even tell you what her name was.

 

“Are my parents still alive?” He asks after a moment.

 

“I’m not sure,” Shiro says. “You cut all ties with them and were adamant you wanted nothing to do with them. From what you told me, and from a bit of what I’ve seen… They aren’t good people, Keith. I’m sorry.”

 

Keith supposes that’s all he needs to know for now. He can press for details later. Or maybe he’s better off not knowing just how bad they are. He’ll think on it, he decides.

 

“You were never really one to get all sappy, but you did mention to us when you were drunk one night that we were like your family now,” Shiro says to him, smiling a genuine smile. “Me, Lance, Hunk, Pidge. You said that a few weeks before… before the accident. We were all out at the bar Lance works at, celebrating your birthday, actually. And I don’t know how, but Aunt Liv came up, and we shared some memories… You got to thinking about your family. And then you looked up at me with the sincerest smile on your face and said we were your family. It’s nice to catch you in moments like that.”

 

Something twists in Keith’s gut, now making him more nervous about his friends coming to visit. They weren’t just friends from high school. They were really important to Keith. Then, he suddenly feels a bit of anger at being robbed of these people. What else is he missing out on? How many more memories of late nights in bars? How often did he stay up late and play games with Pidge and Lance, if at all? Did he ever ask Hunk to bake him special treats? Did they ever meet up for lunch, or breakfast? Did he and Shiro host them for dinner? He wants to know about every birthday celebration he can’t remember, every late night followed by an early morning, and every inside joke. The unfairness of the situation hits him so quickly, he doesn’t think Shiro is expecting it when the atmosphere in the room shifts.

 

“Keith… Are you okay, honey?”

 

Keith wants to glare at him. Of _course_ he isn’t okay. But it’s not Shiro’s fault, so he’s not going to take it out on him. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “It’s just unfair, is all,” he says.

 

Shiro takes his hand, and Keith wishes it didn’t add to his irritation. He wishes he could just jump into being in a relationship, wishes he could jump into being with his friends, that he could jump into the way his life is supposed to be. It’s unfair to all of them that that’s probably not going to happen. He lets his hand lie limp in Shiro’s. He doesn’t want to reciprocate what he’s not ready to give, but doesn’t want to deny Shiro any bit of comfort he can get. This has to be killing him as much as it’s killing Keith, to have to retell his boyfriend tidbits about his life, about _their_ life.

 

Because his brain needs to cling to a bit of hope, he tells himself that maybe his friends visiting will be nice. Even if he doesn’t remember anything, he’ll still enjoy seeing them.

 

* * *

 

The morning sort of… drags on. Keith doesn’t feel like divulging more of his past from Shiro, but certain things come up anyway. Keith flips through morning tv, Shiro saying, “oh, you love this show,” when they pass one with tall handsome men fighting a ghost. Keith leaves it on and enjoys it enough. He might like it more if he hadn’t just jumped in the middle of an episode in what seems to be several seasons into the series.

 

That kills some time. Shiro gets him food from the cafeteria. The doctor comes in and asks more questions, about how he feels, if he’s in any pain, if he’s had any breakthroughs with his memory. He feels fine, not in any more pain than usual, still doesn’t remember anything. The doctor says he can be moved into a regular room soon, which is a good sign of progress, if nothing else.

 

Keith asks Shiro what his job is as they make some small talk. Assuming Shiro has one, that is. He spends an awful lot of time with Keith and not working, so he’s not really sure.

 

Shiro reveals that he’s a fitness trainer, and ah, yes, that makes sense. Shiro has a nice, fit body, has muscles without needing to flex them for them to be noticeable. He probably only eats lean white meat and has protein powder in his breakfast smoothies. Shiro mentions he wasn’t seeing his clients for a while, but now that Keith has been showing more and more signs of recovery he’s been seeing a few in the mornings. Keith’s glad Shiro seems to be getting back into the swing of things, then.

 

But then he remembers something Shiro told him yesterday. Didn’t he say they wanted to go to school for the same thing? Keith looks down to his body. It’s… pretty average. He’s definitely not as buff as Shiro, but maybe his muscles atrophied while he was comatose? He doesn’t think that’s the case though. He seems fit, or maybe that he used to be more fit, but certainly not on Shiro’s level.

 

“So, you mentioned we went to school for the same thing,” Keith began. “Does that, uh, also mean _I_ am a fitness trainer?”

 

Shiro chuckles, “Oh, God no. Usually I’m up getting ready for my run and you’ll be snoozing until the last possible minute until you need to get ready. I mean, you do what you can to stay in shape. Sometimes we’ll jog when you get done with work or go to the gym and do some lifting. I make sure you eat healthy when you’re not chowing down on hot pockets behind my back.”

 

 _Hot pockets,_ Keith thinks, the name making his mouth water. He doesn’t remember what they taste like but knows what they are. He’d probably prefer that over hospital food at the moment.

 

“Oh, that reminds me,” Shiro says, fishing something out of his pocket. It’s a white box with red accents and tall skinny lettering that says _Marlboro._ “Usually, I don’t advocate for it, but after all you’ve been through, I can imagine you need one about now. Just gotta figure out if we can get you outside at some point to sneak one.”

 

“I… what? I smoke?” That’s one habit Keith wouldn’t have guessed he’d had. He didn’t feel any cravings or urges.

 

“Uh,” Shiro seemed flabbergasted for a moment. “Well, if you don’t want them I guess, um. I can… do something else with them?”

“Huh. Did I want to quit smoking?”

 

“Well… It was more like I would chastise you for it, and you would go ‘Yeah, yeah, someday,’ and then light one up. So. I think you just weren’t really worried about it.”

 

Hm. Well maybe today was “someday.”

 

“I don’t really feel like I need them, so. I guess. No thanks?”

 

Shiro looks surprised, but still smiles as he slides them back into his pocket. “Who knew that quitting smoking was as easy as suffering blunt force trauma.”

 

Keith snorted. He supposes if there’s at least one good thing to come out of this, that’s… something.

 

“Okay so. What did we go to school for? What’s my job?”

“Sorry to disappoint, but you don’t do what we went to school for either. We were both going to be pilots. We wanted to travel. And I think you just didn’t want to be in the same place too long.”

 

Even now, the idea of taking a plane up in the clouds and seeing the world from a bird’s eye view sounds… amazing. He can’t imagine what it could have been that would make him change his mind, or why Shiro wouldn’t be doing that either.

 

“Why am I not a pilot? Or you?! That sounds awesome.”

 

“Unfortunately, I had an accident of my own a few years ago.” Shiro lifts his right arm to show Keith a gleaming metallic prosthetic that he's surprised he hadn't noticed. It’s actually quite… _beautiful_. It looks state of the art, robotic as he moves the fingers and shows it off to Keith.

 

“Whoa,” is all he says.

 

“Yeah, it’s pretty neat. Airlines aren’t really big on handicapped pilots, though. Especially because for a while I didn’t have such a fancy prosthetic.”

 

“Well, that’s stupid. It probably works better than a human arm,” Keith says, frowning. That certainly wasn’t fair to Shiro, who probably worked hard as hell to become a pilot.

 

“Easy, killer. I think some airlines are coming around. I might need to take refresher courses, but I’ll try again later down the road. Don’t worry.”

 

At least Shiro could possibly still live his dream. Keith wondered what ever happened to _him_ living that dream.

 

“So neither of us are pilots?”

 

“Unfortunately, no. You had… a bit of a breakdown in school. You’re not really a school person, especially in a college setting. It was a lot of pressure for you to work and do all of your school work, which you weren’t always the best at. You did great in the simulations, _amazing_ even. But the actual schooling wasn’t always your strong suit. You were always pretty good with your hands though, and liked to do busy work. You got into being a mechanic, and you seem to like it enough. And we still find fun places to travel to once or twice a year. It’s not the same, or what we dreamed of when we were younger, but… we make it work.”

 

Keith mulled it over, slightly disappointed that he _could_ have been living out his dreams if only he could have disciplined himself more in college. And disappointed that Shiro isn’t living his dream, either. He supposes sometimes just “making it work” is the best you can hope for in some situations.

 

The hours continue to dwindle on, and Shiro says he’s going to pick up the gang. A nervous dread settles in Keith’s stomach. His friends. Or he should say, his _family_. It’s such a strange feeling he thinks would be equivalent of meeting the long lost mother that gave you up for adoption when you were an infant.

 

“Don’t worry, you’ll love them,” Shiro flashes him a quick smile as he heads on his way.

 


	4. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some pineapple pizza discourse ahead lol

He’s nervously nibbling on today’s lunch, pineapple pizza, when the door swings open. He hopes it’s a nurse. He isn’t ready to meet them. His stomach suddenly flutters and needs to set his slice back down on the tray as the person enters the room. It is not a nurse.

 

Three people trail in ahead of Shiro, nervous energy radiating off of each of them. One is a tall, lanky boy with short hair, in all black, huge sunglasses, and two coffees in his hands. Another is vastly shorter than the others, short and messy auburn hair, big glasses, and hands stuffed in her hoodie pockets. The final is a large, tall man, who looks positively more nervous and perhaps emotional than the rest, carrying a few tupperware containers that Keith can’t really make out what’s in them, but he thinks one is cookies.

 

The tall boy looks down at the pizza on Keith’s tray, and you would think that Keith was eating raw squid or alien goo or something.

 

“Dude, pineapple pizza? Are you _serious_?! Mr. Fruit-Doesn’t-Belong-On-Pizza, Gives-Lance-And-Hunk-Shit-Every-Time-They-Even- _Mention_ -It, Keith Kogane, is eating pineapple on pizza right in front of my _very eyes_! You must have _really_ hit your head hard.”

 

“Well, _duh_ , Lance,” the girl says. “He’s been in a coma for three weeks and now has amnesia. He _really_ hit his head hard,” she deadpans to the boy who must be Lance. Keith has a feeling she’s not trying to be harsh, just blunt. The others seem to be used to it, because no one bats an eye.

 

Lance looks absolutely scandalized, the girl making a face of disdain, the large man looks at him with the utmost joy.

 

“Keith! I’m so _proud_ of you!” The large man says, beaming. He sets the tupperware down and moves in to gather Keith in a hug. A rather painful hug for his sore body, his bruised ribs and whiplash making themselves known as his body is suddenly jostled.

 

“Buddy, I knew you’d like it if you’d just try it!”

 

“Uh--” Keith grunts, “Ow, ow…”

 

“Oh, shit, sorry, sorry!” He says as he pulls away. “Sorry! You just like… don’t get how much of a victory this is for me. I said I was going to get you to try it and you said over your dead body… Now look at you!”

 

“To be fair,” the girl says, “His body _was_ almost dead, so. I guess he was right, too.”

 

“Pidge!” the large man turns to look at her, incredulous. “Don’t say that.”

 

She shoots him a look that says, _What, it’s true_. And, well, Keith can’t really blame her because it _is_ true.

 

“Well,” Keith chimes in, all eyes on him suddenly. “She’s right…”

 

The girl, Pidge, eyes the man that must be Hunk with an almost smug gleam in her eyes, to which Hunk responds with an eye roll.

 

“Come on, it’s Keith,” she says. “If it were any of us he’d say the same thing.”

 

“Yeah, this is the guy who laughed when I broke my foot jumping off of a roof,” Lance pipes in.

 

“Well you were jumping _off a roof_ , I don’t know how you thought that’d end well to begin with.”

 

“Because! I was going to land on the trampoline and then into the pool! It would’ve been _amazing_!”

 

They seem to be such a cohesive group of people in front of him, so comfortable with each other to make these jabs, to share these stories, and Keith feels all at once like an outsider. He’s looking at these people that are supposed to mean so much to him, and he feels like such a stranger, like a fifth wheel.

 

“Anyway,” Pidge says, ignoring Lance’s short lived rant. “Now I have no one to side with me on the Great Pineapple Debate,” she pouts, looking to Keith. “I suppose, given the circumstances, I can forgive you. I just need to get a pepperoni and sausage pizza in you to remind you how pizza is _supposed_ to taste.”

 

“Speaking of taste!” Hunk says, once again picking his tupperware back up and pulling a chair up to Keith’s bed, making himself comfortable. “I made these for you.”

 

Hunk opens one container of little cookies with dollops of hard icing on top. “I know these are your favorite. I may or may not have stressed baked like 5 batches of these last night. So, if you want more… I have them.”

 

“Hm, not if we eat them first,” Lance says, next to settle down into a chair. And then puts his feet up on Keith’s mattress. With his all black vans sitting on top of his blanket. Keith must glare, because the next thing he knows Lance is saying, “Damn, alright Mr. Grumpy, shoes are off the bed.”

 

“Ah, some things never change,” Pidge sighs as she’s the next to settle in. Keith notices he can’t see Shiro in the room. He must’ve stepped out. As basically the only person Keith kind of knows right now, he really wishes he wouldn’t have.

 

Keith doesn’t really know how to feel about what Pidge just said. Some things never change. So there must at least be some part of Keith, the _old_ Keith, that’s still there. He hopes that’s a good thing.

 

“Man, tell me about it,” Lance grumbles. “Jeez, I get out of bed, like, four hours early for you. I _bring you coffee_ , and I get glared at!”

 

“Lance,  you haven’t given him the coffee yet,” Hunk says.

 

“Oh… Right.” Lance sheepishly hands over a tall clear cup with an orange and pink logo, filled with light tan liquid and ice. “Your favorite,” he says, beaming as he hands over the cup, any hint of past annoyance evaporated as he gives the cup to Keith.

 

Keith takes a sip from the straw and… Holy _shit_ is that good. It still tastes like coffee, but nice and sweet and with a little something extra.

 

“Oh, that’s good,” Keith sighs. “What is this?”

 

“Iced Caramel Macchiato from Dunkin. You’re welcome.”

 

“Yeah, thanks.”

 

“Oh, hey, we should probably uh, reintroduce ourselves,” Hunk says sheepishly. “Uh, sorry if we’re kind of bombarding you or overwhelming you. We’re not really used to you, um… Not knowing us.”

 

Keith gives him a forgiving smile. “Ditto.” At least Hunk realizes Keith must be feeling overwhelmed. That helps Keith feel a little more hopeful that the day won’t be too awful or awkward.

 

“So, I’m Hunk,” he smiles.

 

“I’m Pidge,” the girl says from her spot towards the foot of the bed. “Don’t worry about my real name, it’s not important.”

 

“It’s _Katie_ ,” Lance then says, which earns him a glare and a light slap to the arm from Pidge.

 

“Hey, I thought we agreed we were just going to like, never tell him? Keep it a secret for _eeeeever_.”

 

“Yeah, like Shiro doesn’t still call you Katie. That would just confuse the hell out of poor Keith, here.”

 

Keith is pretty sure he would’ve been able to put two and two together, yet he remains quiet, letting his visitors bicker around him.

 

“ANYWAY,” Lance jumps in, “I am Lance, your most wonderful and bestest friend ever. We once went backpacking through Europe and spent a wonderful time together, bonding and sharing wonderful stories with the beautiful locals.”

 

“Uh huh…” Keith isn’t really sure how much of that is true.

 

“It’s true, it was a beautiful adventure, and you looked at me and said ‘Lance, you are _wonderful_ , just the absolute best, and if it weren’t for Beautiful-Perfect-Number-One-In-My-Heart-Shiro, you would _absolutely_ be my boyfriend--’”

 

“ _Ugh_ , Lance,” Pidge rolls her eyes. “Stooooop.”

 

“Well, I’m just letting him know. He loves me.”

 

“Yeah, I doubt it,” Keith says.

 

Lance looks absolutely taken aback by this as Hunk and Pidge bust out in laughter next to him.

 

“God, nice try, but even amnesiac Keith isn’t falling for your stories,” Hunk laughs.

 

Keith is glad that, to them, he seems to be fitting in like he’s supposed to. But honestly he still feels mostly out of place.

 

“No, but seriously,” Hunk says, “You guys have gone backpacking. But not in Europe. Just camping in the good old wilderness. Which Lance always wants to do until he has to sleep on a sleeping bag in a tent while swatting away mosquitos.”

 

“Hey, I was just glad to be helpful to Keith in his time of need because _some people_ couldn’t get off work, even though he’d been talking about wanting to go for, like, ever.”

 

“Camping,” he says, thinking outloud. “Sounds fun. _Outside_ sounds fun. I haven’t been out of this room,” he says, looking around at the bleak white and seafoam green walls. The hospital smell has settled into his nostrils to the point where he doesn’t even notice it anymore, which he can’t decide is a good or bad thing. He’s only been out of bed to use the bathroom, which was only a very recent development. Which was not fun, at all, to be face to face with how much he’s been weakened between the accident and subsequent coma, but he would take that over a bedpan (he would like to forget the bedpan thing ever happened all together).

 

“So like, in your current state, you’ve basically _never_ been outside…” Pidge says leaning in, looking at him very intently.

 

“Well. I guess not.”

 

Pidge looks around to the others in the room, a mischievous smile on her face. “Guys. I think we need to stage a break out.”

 

Lance instantly looks intrigued. Hunk on the other hand clearly does not think this is a good idea, by the look on his face. Keith is inclined to agree with Hunk.

 

“Uh, guys, I can barely move. Everything is still sore, and standing isn’t gonna happen.”

 

“Dude, it’s a hospital. They have wheelchairs.” The wheels are already turning in Lance’s head.

 

“Guys, I don’t know about this,” Hunk says, not wanting to be the downer, but not wanting his friend to get hurt either.

 

“Hunk, you heard the man! He’s never been outside!”

 

Hunk grumbles something about _yes, he obviously has_ , to which Lance responds, _He doesn’t remember that!_ When the door swings open and there is Shiro there to stop them from getting too far into this crazy scheme they’re cooking up.

 

Keith is very, very glad to see Shiro come to his rescue.

 

“So, what are you guys up to in here?”

 

“Aw, don’t act like you weren’t outside pacing the whole time to give us some ‘space’ and then came in at the first sign of trouble,” Pidge pouts, putting air quotes around “space.”

 

“I was not.”

 

Shiro’s face deceives him. He definitely _was._

 

Shiro was looking out for Keith but still trying to give him space. Keith is kind of touched by it. He may or may not be blushing.

 

“Ugh, Shiroooo, why must you ruin our fun,” Lance whines.

 

“Sorry. Just looking out for my boyfriend’s best interest. I think he’s injured enough.”

Now Keith was _really_ blushing at being called Shiro’s boyfriend. He obviously knew he was Shiro’s boyfriend, but to hear it outloud made his face warm and his stomach flip.

 

“I have an idea!” Hunk pipes in, digging something out of his pocket. It’s a permanent marker.

 

“Let’s draw on his cast!”

 

Lance and Pidge’s eyes light up as they simultaneously crying _yes_.

 

When it’s said and done, Lance has written his name in big block letters surrounded by hearts. Pidge’s is smaller, and she draws a computer mouse next to hers. Hunk signs neatly and in cursive with a cute doodle of a stack of pancakes. And then they take turns adding more on. Someone drives a knife, someone else a cat, and amazingly there is only one very small, almost hidden penis drawn on his cast, thanks to Lance.

 

By the time his friends leave, he’s worn out. His pain is starting to flair up and he’s tired and he just wants to sleep. Shiro sits in the chair by his bed and gently rubs his scalp.

 

“Ugh.”

 

“Long day, huh?” Shiro sympathizes.

 

“Mmmm hmm..”

 

“Get some sleep. No big visitors tomorrow, so you can rest.”

 

No visitors... Before he can decide how he feels about that, he falls asleep, lulled by Shiro’s steady stroking and the beep of the medical machines.


	5. IV

It’s a long few weeks before Keith can finally go home. He’s still in pain, but he supposes not as bad as when he first woke up; his ribs are more just bruised and less broken now, his neck only hurts if he moves it too fast or too far, and he’s still plagued by occasional skull splitting headaches, but the overall soreness of the rest of his body has died down and he can walk again. His walk is more of a shuffle, but it’s still walking, so he’ll take it.

 

This morning finds him riding shotgun in Shiro’s car on their way out of the city. It feels weird to be thinking of going home without having any memories of such a place. Isn’t that what made a place a home? The memories and the people you’ve shared them with?

 

He decides not to dwell on it any longer.

 

They spend most of the ride in silence, Keith quietly watching the city pass by and Shiro navigating them through the rush hour morning traffic. Shiro seems to be as nervous as Keith, unusually quiet, hands tight around the steering wheel. Maybe the prospect of someone living with him that doesn’t know him is getting to him. Because it’s surely getting to Keith.

 

Keith likes Shiro, don’t get him wrong. He’s eternally grateful for all Shiro’s been doing for him and for having the patience of dealing with an amnesiac boyfriend. Shiro is kind, helpful, and seems to be willing to do what he can to make Keith comfortable, which makes it all the harder for Keith to admit that holding Shiro’s hand makes him uncomfortable. Or Shiro reaching out to rest a hand on his thigh or knee. Or Shiro calling him baby. He doesn’t want to deny Shiro these small comforts, but for Keith, they’re not comforts at all. He’d like to reiterate, he definitely likes Shiro. But considering, to him, he’s only known Shiro for about a month, it’s moving a little too fast.

 

And he would like to use the word “know” lightly. He can’t really say he knows Shiro, not the way significant others know each other. Keith knows some facts and tidbits about Shiro’s life, and knows that he loves Keith, knows that he is a good person, but doesn’t really _know_ him.

 

Keith thinks that’s starting to sink in for Shiro. The day has finally come for Keith to come home, a day  that Shiro seemed entirely giddy for up until the day it happened. Now he’s radiating tension and nervous energy that Keith doesn’t think is related to dodging and weaving through the mid-morning traffic.

 

Home is a nice two bedroom apartment just on the outskirts of the city. The door opens to tall ceilings, hardwood floors, and a big open living room and kitchen area. To the left is a hallway that leads to the two bedrooms and a bathroom.

 

“Not much of a tour to give,” Shiro admits, looking somewhat sheepish. “As you can see this is the living area,” a part of the apartment with a big, worn in couch, a dark wood coffee table with an area rug under it, and a small entertainment stand with a tv sitting on top, “the kitchen,” a section with some kind of stone countertops, a stove and fridge, and an island separating it from the living area.

 

Have you ever been blackout drunk and had your friends tell you of some crazy story from the night before? And all you can think is, “Wow I did that? I don’t remember.”

 

That’s how Keith has felt for the past few weeks. Except now it feels exceptionally worse. Because now he is surrounded by photographs of him and his friends and his boyfriend having fun and he can’t recall any of the events for himself. A beach trip. A picture from a roller coaster where Hunk is making a hilarious face. A picture of a younger Keith and Shiro at what appears to be a school dance. A picture of Keith, Lance, and Hunk in their graduation robes. Keith and Shiro on what appears to be a date. Shiro and his parents at Shiro’s graduation (that one he was kind of in the background of; it didn’t make him as uncomfortable as the rest, but it was still a little unsettling).

 

He moves to the kitchen and there are more pictures on the fridge. A photobooth strip of him and Lance. A photo of some children he doesn’t recognize. Hunk giving Lance a noogie. Pidge and Keith dressed as Velma and Shaggy for Halloween. The place is absolutely overflowing with memories, memories brimming with happiness, and it makes Keith feel all the more empty inside.

 

Keith feels bad for his former self for being taken from his friends. And for his friends for being left with a shell of what Keith used to be, or maybe an imposter wearing Keith’s skin. They deserve to have their friend back, and his old self deserves to be here with his family and friends, not trapped somewhere in the recesses of Keith’s mind.

 

A knock on the door startles them out of their silence. Shiro goes to answer it, followed by Keith hanging a little behind. He’s not feeling up to company at the moment.

 

The door opens and a beautiful lilting voice fills the apartment.

 

“Shiro! We hope we’re not bothering you but we just wanted to drop off some food. We know you’ll be busy helping Keith settle the next few days.”

 

Then a man’s voice followed in a similar accent, but louder, “Made a pot of m’famous beef stew that I know Keith likes! Also we’ve brought over some leftovers from yesterday, roast beef and potatoes. AND, we’ve brought over a casserole! Should keep you full for a few days!”

 

The woman is probably the most beautiful woman Keith’s ever seen, even if he could remember all the other ones from his past, with long flowing white hair and sparkling eyes. The man looks a bit eccentric, bright orange hair and a handlebar mustache. They seem like wonderful people, taking time to bring them food, but Keith’s earlier sentiment stands. He really would rather not have to deal with company.

 

Shiro, it seems, has a different idea, as he calls Keith over to the front door.

 

Well, Keith supposes he should at least say hello and thank the kind people offering to feed him and Shiro.

 

“You guys really didn’t have to do that, but we really appreciate it. I know Keith is going to devour that soup as soon as he tastes it,” Shiro says smiling. “Keith, this is Allura and Coran. They’re our neighbors.”

 

“Oh yes, of course, poor boy’s got a case of amnesia! No worries, Keith, we’ll have you caught up in no time,” the mustached man, presumably Coran, exclaimed. He seemed very excitable yet well meaning.

 

“Yes, Keith, we’re very sorry to hear what happened, but anything we can do to help, don’t be hesitant to ask,” Allura said, smiling softly.

 

“Um, thanks guys. It really means a lot.” Keith tried to smile. He hoped it didn’t look like a grimace. He really was grateful, but he just felt a little awkward.

 

“Alright, Coran,” Allura said, resting her hand on Coran’s shoulder and turning him away. “Let’s let Shiro and Keith settle in. Perhaps we’ll invite them over for cards next week.”

 

“Ha! Indeed we should, maybe I’ll finally be able to beat ol’ Keith here at five hundred rum!”

 

Keith isn’t sure what five hundred rum is, but it sounds complicated.

 

“Thanks again guys, really! I’ll see you soon.” Shiro waves goodbye while balancing the tupperware in his other hand, closing the door with his hip. Keith is so sure he’d drop something that he grabs the food from him, walking it over to the counter.

 

Shiro turned to Keith. “Sorry about that. They mentioned that they were going to bring a casserole, but I didn’t think it’d be so soon.”

 

“No worries,” Keith assures.

 

“So… How about the rest of the apartment then?”

 

“Sure.”

 

They move to the little hallway to the left and Shiro opens one of the doors, all white with a silver handle.

 

The door opens to a room with a big window, things cluttered and scattered here and there, looking much more lived in than the rest of the apartment. There's a big bed in the middle of the room under the window, dark wood frame with comfy looking bedding and pillows. Though one side has clearly been more slept in than the other. The other must be his side of the bed. There are plants along the headboard soaking up the sun through the window.

 

“So,” Shiro says sheepishly, “this is our-- _the_ uh, bedroom. I know… that our relationship is kind of… new for you. Or… anyway, don’t worry about sharing the bed or anything, I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable. You can sleep in here, I'll take the guest bedroom.”

 

That seems silly to Keith.

 

“Why?” He says. “I'm the one who’s kind of the guest here.”

 

Shiro’s face falls at that, and Keith feels a little bad, but he truly feels like a guest. His picture may be on the bedside table, but as far as he knows he's never been in this apartment.

 

The neat row of plants along the headboard catches his eye, tiny white buckets with tiny prickly cacti in each.

 

“You like these little guys?” he asks Shiro, desperate to deflate some of the awkwardness creeping up between them.

 

“Actually,” Shiro says, taking a few careful steps closer but still keeping his distance. “Those are _your_ little guys. You used to say they’re prickly like you. And low maintenance,” Shiro chuckles, almost getting lost in another memory that Keith isn’t privy to. “And good thing, or else they might be dead. You were always the one to water them. As little as they need it, I still forget.”

 

Keith feels the smallest tendrils of hope take root in his chest. This is something that… feels right. He does like these little plants. Something about their resilience, their independence strikes him. He feels a smile beginning to form at the corner of his mouth.

 

“If you really want to sleep in the guest room,” Shiro continues, “we can move them in there with you. If you’d like. There’s not really anything in there now.”

 

And just like that Keith remembers that he feels like a stranger in what’s supposed to be his own home. But he supposes these little plants will help with that.

 

“Yes,” he says. “I’d like that.”


	6. V

 

Keith and Shiro spend the next few days trying to get used to each other. Keith is trying to adjust to having a boyfriend that he doesn’t know. He’s trying to fit into the apartment, into the relationship, to feel like he belongs there. He’s also trying to find ways to unlock facts about his hidden past without freaking himself out. He was very close to opening a photo album kept on a bookshelf in the living room. He held it in his hands, moved his finger over the fake leather, felt its weight. He couldn’t bring himself to open it, though. The photos on the wall were bad enough. They brought up such… _negative_ emotions. Sometimes they just made him sad. He felt bad for his friends. He felt bad for himself. It felt like he was mourning some magnificent life that none of them could ever have again. Other times it felt like they were taunting him. Those were the times where he was infinitely frustrated. He felt like a 23-year-old new born, wandering around and trying to get his bearings. The photos said to him, “You can’t remember this? This was a great day. Sucks to suck.”

 

Shiro is trying to get used to holding back. And he's doing pretty well, Keith has to note. Keith can tell that Shiro wanted to do more than sit on the opposite side of the couch while they channel surfed. He can tell that Shiro wants to reach across the couch and hold his boyfriend, he can tell that he wants to hold Keith’s hand, to kiss him, to come up behind him and wrap his arms around him. But Shiro realizes that Keith isn't ready to just jump back into things like that.

 

But Keith is tired of them having to hold back. He's tired of chasing memories he doesn't think he's going to get back, and he's tired of Shiro having to refrain for his sake. So, Keith decides it's time to at least start getting back into the swing of things. He makes what he felt to be the next logical step in this situation.

 

To start back at the beginning.                 

 

Shiro is making them dinner. Actually, he is heating up the last of the leftovers from Allura and Coran, which Keith has been absolutely loving. He hopes Shiro can cook as well as them, but that remains to be seen. Keith is hanging out at the island, swiveling around on a barstool, staring at his friends’ signatures on his cast. He was surprised to find himself missing them and had decided soon he would reach out to them.

 

 _Okay_ , he tells himself, _quit stalling and focus on the task at hand._

 

“So,” Keith begins. Shiro turns to look over his shoulder at him and hums in response while he stirs up the last of the stew.

 

“What kind of, um… dates did we go on? Like, back when we first started going out?” He asks sheepishly as his cheeks go red. He’s not sure why he’s feeling nervous. Shiro is _already_ his boyfriend. He doesn’t need to fear rejection or judgement. But it’s still something intimate with someone he doesn’t really know very well. He finds the situation just a bit too intimidating and he can feel his palms start to sweat.

 

 _Calm down_ , he tells himself. _Shiro already loves you. This will be good for the both of you_.

 

Shiro looks surprised as he turns around face Keith, but a brightness sparks in his eyes. Keith thinks another thing Shiro has been holding back on is talking about them and how they used to be. To be invited to reminisce seems to make him happy.

 

“Oh. Well, when we were teenagers, it wasn’t anything too exciting. I could only work so many hours as a high schooler, so we didn’t have the funds to do anything fancy. But we had a special little place we liked to hang out. A diner where we would get some grub and study. At first, we just studied there. Eventually we went on dates there, too. And of course, we went to movies, the zoo, dances. And we did some stargazing. I would take you out where there wasn’t as much light pollution, and we would just lay on the hood of my old jeep and try to find the constellations.”

 

All of those ideas sounded amazing to Keith. He can imagine him and Shiro as regulars at a local diner, having regular orders that waitresses already knew they’d want. He can imagine Shiro holding his hand in a dark movie theater, maybe trying to sneak a kiss while Keith either indulged or laughed him off depending on his mood. He can imagine them slow dancing to some cheesy ballad, can imagine them laying under the stars. One moment it makes his heart feel warm, and the next, heavy. Because he can only imagine these things, not actually remember any of it. He couldn’t recall what they’d seen, what they’d eat, what they’d talk about.

 

But that’s why he was going to propose his idea. He was going to ask Shiro that they go on one of those dates.

 

“Those sound amazing,” Keith says, trying to reign in his whirlwind of emotions. “I was thinking. Maybe we should go on one of those dates.” He dips his eyes to island countertop, too self-conscious to look at Shiro. His cheeks feel like they’re flaming now.

 

Then he hears Shiro chuckle, his feet shuffling along the linoleum to where Keith is sitting.

 

“Baby,” he says, and Keith can hear the smile in his voice. He puts his hands on Keith’s face and guides him to look up. And the look on Shiro’s face, so happy and full of love, makes Keith feel okay. It makes Keith feel happy, too, like this is a good decision. “Of course. If you’re ready for this, we can absolutely go on one of those dates if you want to. How about I plan something for this weekend, okay? It’s a bit of a drive to the old diner, but I think it’ll be a fun little trip. We can see the old stomping grounds, and we can finish the night off stargazing like we used to. How does that sound?”

 

Keith can’t help but smile back at Shiro, truly feeling good. “Yes, I’d love that.”

 

The sound of hissing from the stove jerks both of their attention away from each other. The stew was starting to boil over onto the burner. Shiro cursed under his breath, but gave Keith one last look, stroking his thumb along Keith’s cheek before turning away. Again, Keith could see that Shiro would have rather kissed him instead.

 

 _Soon_ , he thinks. Soon, he will be ready for that.

 

* * *

 

Keith holds himself to what he thought about earlier, before he and Shiro planned their date. He wants to see his friends.

 

Thankfully, he still had his old phone with all of the contacts in it. Which also meant he still had all the old messages.

 

When he had first gotten his phone back, he scrolled through them a bit. There were some that were well wishes. Some of his friends saying how much they missed him. Before that were some frantic messages asking where he was, a lot of missed calls, some voicemails from Shiro… Those must have been from the accident. Those were kind of hard to see.

 

There was already a group chat in his phone of the five of them where most of the messages were contained. Before the accident, there were just a lot conversations that kind of… didn’t mean a whole lot to him. There were plans to meet up, exchanging of work schedules, a few stories about what had happened during their days, some inside jokes, and something called memes. He seemed to interact with the group in spurts, sometimes having something to say, sometimes holding onto a conversation, and other times his little blue box wouldn’t be seen for hours. Though he did still seem to reach out to them at least once a day. Perhaps that was something he should get back to doing again.

 

He opened up their group chat later that night while relaxing on the couch with Shiro. If Shiro seemed to notice him using his phone, which he really didn’t do at all since he had gotten it back, he didn’t say anything. Though he did smile when he got the text notification from him, since he was also part of the group chat.

 

**Me:**

Hey.

**Lance Sucks:**

OMG!! KEITH

 

 **Pidgeon** :

KEith

 

**Hunk (of burnin love):**

hey keith!!! nice to hear from you :)

 

Keith had expected to be able to set his phone down and turn back to the show he and Shiro were watching, but their answers were nearly instantaneous. He wasn’t exactly how to handle their excitement. He thought they would just say “Hey” back.

**Me:**

What’s up?

 

It’s an absolutely lame way to start, he knows, but he figures it will get the job done.

 

**Lance Sucks:**

wow. we havent heard from you in days. weeks even. your first text in the gc in months. & all u have to say is ‘whats up’.. Dude.

 

Well, Lance apparently has a flair for the dramatics, then. Keith doesn’t think it was _that_ bad.

 

**Pidgeon:**

lance. chill. but also, i have to agree. What a lackluster opening, keithy.

 

**Hunk (of burnin love):**

don’t listen to them keith :). we’re happy to see you back in the gc!

 

**Hunk (of burnin love):**

we just finished eating. Lance is about to go to work but pidge and i might watch a movie if i can stay up for it. What are you up to?

 

**Me:**

Shiro and I just finished eating, too.

 

**Me:**

What are you guys gonna watch?

 

**Pidgeon:**

THANKSKILLING.

 

**Hunk (of burnin love):**

ugh, can’t we watch like… a disney movie

 

**Lance Sucks:**

no disney without me!

 

**Hunk (of burnin love):**

it’s not like you haven’t seen them all!

 

**Lance Sucks:**

not the point!

 

The gaping hole in Keith’s memory rears its head as Keith remembers Disney, remembers what Disney movies _are_ , remembers a few titles, but doesn’t remember specific plot points. He sighs in frustration, about to set his phone down while his friends argue before Pidge comes to the rescue.

 

**Pidgeon:**

GUYS! I bet keith doesn’t remember any Disney movies…. You know what that means?

 

**Lance Sucks:**

MARATHON!

 

**Hunk (of burnin love):**

yES!!!

 

**Pidgeon:**

yessSSssSs

 

Keith smiles to himself as he reads the messages. They want to include him. They want to invite him over for a movie marathon. It kind of makes him feel a little warm inside, and just a tad bit hopeful.

 

**Me:**

Sounds good :)

**Lance Sucks:** look at him, pulling out the smiley face. We’ve done it, boys, we’ve made him smile.

 

Keith’s cheeks heat up, embarrassed at Lance calling attention to his emotion, but he supposes that’s what he gets for typing out the smiley face. It doesn’t dampen his mood, though, surprisingly. Keith has friends that care about him and want him to be included and happy. Keith looks over to Shiro to see him scrolling through the messages with a smile on his face as well. Things feel right. He has a date with Shiro this weekend and he’s making plans with friends. Keith hopes this is how they get to the new normal.

 

**Pidgeon:**

Keith. This weekend. Youre coming over.

 

**Me:**

Okay. Not sure which day, though. I have a date with Shiro

**Lance Sucks:**

Aaaaaaand, the love birds are back at it again. Shocker!

 

**Hunk (of burnin love):**

Aw! Cute! I’m happy for you guys i hope it goes well :’)

 

**Pidgeon:**

gross. But have fun you two ;) let us know what day is good for you!

 

Keith sets the phone back down on the end table. He and Shiro finish their show in warm silence before they turn in for bed. Keith sees Shiro’s happiness fade just the slightest bit as they head to their separate bedrooms. Though he does a good job of covering up his disappointment, Keith can still see that subtle change in his demeanor.

 

 _Soon_ , Keith thinks. Things will be back to normal soon.


	7. VI

Keith is supposed to see his friends on Saturday with his date with Shiro following on Sunday. Keith spends the rest of the week with an anticipatory nervousness bubbling in his gut. It’s a lot going on in one weekend.

 

When the wee hours of Saturday morning find him curled up in his bed in the guest room with a splitting headache that has him seeing stars, he almost takes that as a sign from some higher power that he’s over extending himself. He can almost hear it saying, “ _Take your time_ , _you don’t need to do everything at once._ ”

 

He wasn’t _trying_ to do everything at once. That’s just how things worked out. Though, he would like for his issues to be solved in one weekend, he knows it isn’t going to happen. He knows this is going to be a process.

 

Maybe he shouldn’t be overexerting himself with killing two birds in one go, though.

 

A heinous throb splits his head and makes him whimper. He’d had some headaches since his head injury; it was to be expected. Break your head, and it’s bound to hurt. But he’d never had any quite this bad. Perhaps it had something to do with scaling back on his pain medication.

 

He tries to hold back another whimper when another throb in his head seared his skull, but can't quite choke it down, a broken almost sob escaping his mouth. This is a truly _awful_ headache, one he hasn’t had at least since he was in the hospital.

 

He hears his door creak open. _Shit._ He must’ve woken up Shiro.

 

“Keith? Are you awake? What’s wrong?” he hears Shiro whisper through the darkness, then feels the bed dip at his back. Then feels a warm hand on his shoulder. He feels too oversensitive for it right now, but can’t find the will to move away from it.

 

With a monumental amount of effort, Keith finds it in himself to croak, “Head.”

 

“Your head hurts?” Shiro whispers.

 

Another throb in his skull, another whimper. Now he can feel his broken arm pulsing in its cast, too.

 

“ _Hurts,_ ” Keith whines, fully aware that he’s whining, but couldn’t bring himself to care. He definitely hasn’t felt like this since his earlier days in the hospital.

 

He feels the weight leave the bed and hears Shiro shuffle down the hall. Every little shuffle echos in his head and makes him close his eyes impossibly tighter.

 

A few moments later he hears Shiro re-enter and sit back down on the edge of the bed behind him.

 

“Can you sit up?”

 

Keith thinks about it. His body feels too tense and tight to uncurl from his position from the bed. All he can do is groan in response.

 

“Come on, I’ll help you,” Shiro says, putting his arms under Keith to pull him upward. Keith keens in response, fighting a wave of nausea.

 

“I know, I know. Just for a minute. I have some of the good stuff here.”

 

He leans on Shiro’s chest while the sound of a pill bottle shaking pierces his head and reverberates through his skull. This time he keeps in his whimper and manages to just wince instead.Shiro’s chest is warm, and he smells really good, and it grounds Keith for a moment. He takes the pills, gulps the water in one go, and lets Shiro lay him back down and rub his back. It feels good, comforting, and before long the pain has dulled a bit and he thinks he might be able to drift off.

 

“Sorry for waking you,” he croaks, before he can let himself nod off.

 

“Don’t worry about it. I was up anyway.”

 

Keith frowns in the darkness, can feel his eyebrows draw together and his mouth go tight.

 

Shiro must be able to see it, because he says, “Hey, don’t worry about me. You just rest, okay? Big day today. But if you want me to let the gang know you don’t feel well, I can do that, too. Just… worry about feeling better, okay?”

 

It’s going to take a lot more than his pain going away for Keith to feel better, but he can’t bring himself to say that. All he can do is grunt in response as he feels himself drifting into unconsciousness, Shiro’s soothing rubbing lulling him to sleep.

 

In the morning Keith feels more like he can function and less like the Powers That Be are conspiring against him in some weird cosmic way to get him to slow down.

 

His bed was empty when he woke, the bright sunlight reflecting off of the white walls making him feel more like it was the middle of the day than morning. Maybe he should invest in some curtains for the room.

 

Keith looks over to the plants on his window, bright and thriving. He knows it doesn’t take much for them to grow well, but he’s happy to see them healthy, anyway. It makes him smile a bit until he looks over at the bedside table.

 

Usually housed on the bedside table is a photo of him and Shiro from happier times, on what he thinks may have been a date. Keith felt awful enough seeing all the photos in the house reminding him all the time that he lived a whole entire life before he woke up in a hospital bed.

 

So when he lays in bed at night, he gives himself one small reprieve of laying the picture beside the bed face down. It feels less like it’s mocking him that way. He can just feel a bit at peace for a bit; just him, the tacky floral bedspread, and his cacti on the windowsill.

 

But remembering the early morning and seeing the picture face down on his bedside table brings him to a unpleasant realization that ignites some of the dull ache in his head. Shiro had helped him this morning. He’d come into the room and helped Keith get comfortable when he could’ve just let him suffer alone. But Shiro is a good person. And Shiro loves him. And Keith turned their picture face down on the bedside table and Shiro probably noticed.

 

Keith feels awful. He knows he had a good, though selfish, reason for doing it, and Shiro probably doesn’t blame him, but it still doesn’t stop him from feeling like crap. Shiro doesn’t deserve that.

 

Honestly, Shiro deserves someone better than him. Shiro deserves someone who can love him back, and he doesn’t know _why_ Shiro would waste his time--

 

 _No_ , Keith tells himself. _Stop thinking like that. Shiro wants to make things work. Thats a good thing. Don’t bring the self-doubt-monster into this._

 

Keith has a hard time understanding why Shiro is so invested in him. He can easily say that starting from scratch is too much and move on. And some days, Keith half expects Shiro to finally realize that Keith, and subsequently, their relationship, may never be the way it used to be. But he hasn’t yet. There haven’t been any signs that he's going to. Keith tries to see that as a good thing, and less like a reason that things are going to fall apart any minute, now.

 

He reaches his good arm up and turns the picture face up again. He sighs, looking at the smiling faces.

 

 _Soon_ , was all he could tell himself.

 

* * *

 

Shiro has an afternoon session with one of his clients to head to, so Keith rides along shotgun on the way so he can be dropped off with Lance, Hunk, and Pidge. His headache is barely lingering, and his nerves have calmed down a lot now that the time has come, until the moment finds him in front of their apartment building.

 

“Do you need me to go in with you?” Shiro says, unfortunately, very seriously. He would honestly accompany Keith inside if he needed it. It's sweet, but makes Keith roll his eyes.

 

“No, _Dad_ , I’ll be fine.”

 

Shiro chuckles. “Yeah, okay, brat. Just making sure.”

 

Keith smirks and reaches for the door handle. The banter feels good.

 

“Lo--!” Shiro begins to call out, but then stops himself. “Um. Bye, have fun!” He smiles, cheeks red as he turns to pull out.

 

Keith’s smile falls a bit, but he manages to put it back on to wave goodbye to Shiro.  


Well, the banter felt good while it lasted.

 

But from what Keith remembers from his last visit with his friends, and from some of the messages that had been popping up in the group chat, he's in store for a lot of banter.

 

Hunk is the one to greet Keith when he makes it to the apartment, with a big smile and a sweet scent of something homemade coming from the kitchen. Some of the nervousness in Keith settled\s as he finds himself genuinely returning the smile Hunk gave him.

 

“Keith! What’s up, man?” He says excitedly, moving aside for Keith.

 

“Not much. Figured I’d try this whole socializing thing.”

 

“Ha. Well, it’s just me for a bit. Pidge and Lance ran out to get snacks even though I _told_ them I got it covered,” he gestures toward the oven.

 

“Watcha makin’?”

 

Hunk smirks smug and pleased with himself as he lays out his meal plan.

 

“First, we’ve got some classic chocolate chip cookies right here,” he gestures to a cookie tray on the counter. “In the oven we’ve got my World Famous Snickerdoodles. And, I’ve got some snacks prepped and ready to heat up, too. Pizza bites, pretzel bites, potato skins. All the goodies.”

 

Keith can feel his mouth start to water and his stomach gurgled a little as he remembers all he’d eaten was some toast earlier.

 

“Uh, anything that maybe we could dig into now?” Keith asked sheepishly, but Hunk only grew more enthusiastic.

 

“Sure! There are a few dips I whipped up last night, um, leftover cake from the bakery. Also I could, like, make you a sandwich if you want?”

 

Keith agrees on a sandwich and gives Hunk full reigns of its filling and toppings and condiments, and he is _not_ disappointed. Keith wonders if he could just come to Hunk’s apartment for dinners. Shiro tries, but it’s nothing compared to what Hunk can whip up.

 

Keith sits at the tiny kitchen table and eats while Hunk moves around him. The silence is comfortable and Keith likes it. He’s almost done eating when the door the apartment opens and he hears bags rustling and Pidge and Lance arguing.

 

“No, we HAVE to start with Lilo and Stitch,” Lance says. “Keith loves that one.”

 

“Yeah and the Lion King is his favorite. So we should start with that one.”

 

“No, we should save it for last!”

 

Pidge doesn’t answer Lance as she notices Keith and tells him hello.

 

“Keith! We have food.”

 

“I’m eating food,” he responds, showing off his last bit of crust before he pops it in his mouth.

 

“Jeez, come in and the first thing you do is eat. Typical!” Lance exasperates and Keith rolls his eyes.

 

“So, Keith, which movie do you wanna start with?”

 

“Well, what do you have?” Not sure why he’s asking. He knows they’ll sound vaguely familiar but doesn’t think he’ll know any of their plots.

 

Pidge leads him to the living room to the tiny entertainment stand under their tv with a cabinet filled with movies.

 

They have a large array of titles; Aladdin, Hercules, the Lion King, Finding Nemo _and_ Dory, Lilo and Stitch, were just the ones that he skimmed at first glance. And there were a ton of movies outside of Disney, and even a stack of games. This thing was bursting with entertainment, but he supposed that would be what happens when three people share one space.

 

“Do you want us to tell you what you’d like, or do you want to find out for yourself?”

 

Keith is surprised to be given the option. And surprisingly grateful. He thinks about it. Keith was torn between wanting his memories handed to him and wanting to be able to find himself on his own. One option would be so easy and solve all of his problems. The other appealed to him on a personal level, to find out for himself and be his own person. It was one of the conundrums that kept him up at night. He doesn’t know who he used to be, and he doesn’t know if he should let someone tell him, or if he should give himself the opportunity to grow and become his own person. Even if it meant that he wouldn’t be the same as he was.

 

He remembers the ruckus from the hospital when his friends saw him eating pineapple pizza, something that his former self would never do. It, in itself, was probably nothing, but in the grand scheme of things meant that he was _different_ from his former self. It was an exciting yet terrifying thought, all at once.

 

“Helloooo, Earth to Mullet?” Lance croons, crouching next to them reading the titles.

 

“He’s just browsing,” Pidge says.

 

“Well,” he starts, “I heard you guys say I liked these ones.” He pulls the Lion King and Lilo and Stitch off of the shelf. “I think I want to watch some others and see, too.”

 

“Yes. Great.” Pidge smiles and sets the two movies in front of the TV.

 

“Um. What ones do you guys wanna watch?”

 

“Dude,” Hunk says settling in on the couch behind them, “we’ve seen these like a hundred times, and we’re not too picky. Go ahead and pick whatever jumps out at ya.”

 

So he just pulls out the next two from where his fingers are. Mulan and Hercules. “Four movies seems like enough for one day, yeah?”

 

“Oh man, gettin’ soft on us Keithy,” Lance says.

 

“Well, I’m actually surprised he picked this many. Usually he just picks one and lets us fight it out for the other ones.”

 

“Okay, that’s true.”

 

So, Keith is already behaving differently than they expected. He isn’t sure how he feels about it.

 

Pidge drags a beanbag over by the couch and plops herself down while Lance makes himself comfortable next to Hunk. Lance then proceeds to pat the seat next to him and smirk at Keith. Keith fights back a sigh.

 

Lance is okay and all, but he just seemed a bit… _overwhelming_. Overwhelming in a way that Keith isn’t used to, or at least not yet.

 

“If you’re wondering if Lance is always like this,” Pidge says reaching for some snacks on the coffee table, “the answer is yes.”

 

“Hey! I’m wonderful, thank you.”

 

“Yep. In your own special way,” Hunk assures and Lance almost preens between them.

 

“Jury’s still out,” Keith mumbles, causing Pidge to absolutely crack up.

 

“I like how all versions of Keith let you know when you’re full of it,” she says still giggling, which makes Keith crack a bit of a smile, too. He settles himself more into the couch turning his attention to the television.

 

“Pidgeon, which one did you pick?” Lance asks.

 

“Shhh, you’ll see.”

 

Keith sees a giant castle appear on a blue screen, with cursive Walt Disney under it, followed by a black screen with red letters. Lance gasps.

 

“Pidge, I told you--!” is all Lance manages to get out before he’s cut off by Pidge’s loud yell.

 

“NAAAAAAAANTS INGONYAAAAAAAAMA BITHI BABAAAAA…”

 

Pidge is yelling out the words to the song playing the movie. Promptly followed by Lance joining in on the second part, just as loudly. Did they not have neighbors to be considerate of?

 

He looks over at Hunk, who just shrugs, smiling and thoroughly amused with his friends antics.

 

As the music continued, Lance and Pidge continue singing along, faux passionately, complete with dramatic hand motions. By the end of it, Hunk was even singing along. Keith cracks a smile at his friends around him having a good time, only wishing that he, too, could join in.

 

The rest of the movie is fun. Lance and Pidge still end up singing along to most songs, though not as dramatically as the opening one. Everyone in the room is downright somber as Mufasa is killed by his own brother. “How the hell are you not crying, dude?!” Lance exclaims as Keith remains dry eyed. He was saddened, just not enough to cry. It’s a great movie that’s a lot of fun to watch with his friends.

 

They all end up being good movies. Lance almost always ends up singing or crying. Pidge and Hunk occasionally say the lines with the characters. There’s a lot of laughter and Keith feels really good. He’s glad the Powers That Be hadn’t kept him at home with an awful headache.

 

Somewhere during the third movie, Lance had struck up some conversation, nudging Keith in his side.

 

“So. Big date with Shiro tomorrow, huh?” He says, smirking. Keith can feel his cheeks heating up and hopes no one brings it up.

 

“Aw, he’s blushing!” Hunk beams. Well, so much for that.

 

“I mean, yeah. He is my, uh… _Boyfriend_. Right?” Keith himself has never said it outloud before. It feels strange on his tongue. Boyfriend.

 

“Well, yeah, but. This is kind of like your first date,” Pidge pipes up.

 

“Yeah, I know…”

 

“So, you’re nervous?” She asks.

 

Keith doesn't really want to talk about this but he could tell they’re all intrigued, if not actively looking at him and waiting for his answer.

 

“A little, I guess.”

 

“Man, don’t be. Shiro’s crazy about you. Has been since he met you,” Hunk chimes in.

 

And that’s exactly the part that worried Keith. But he doesn't know if he’s ready to divulge that to them, yet. So he just tries to push through the conversation.

 

“Yeah. I guess.”

 

“Well! Where are you guys headed?” Lance asks.

 

“Um. I guess where we grew up? There’s some diner over there. And stargazing and stuff.”

 

“Aw, man, Shiro would. He’s such a sap for stuff like that.”

 

“Knowing him he’ll probably recreate one of your very first dates or something,” Pidge says.

 

“Didn’t we meet in high school? That seems like a long time ago to remember.”

 

“Well, Shiro is a pretty sentimental guy. You are, too, even though you don’t remember anything right now. You used to remember all that stuff, too.”

 

Keith doesn’t really know what to say to that.

 

“Hey, don’t worry. You guys will make lots of new memories for you two to remember forever and ever and drive the rest of us crazy,” Pidge smiles encouragingly at him. He can only hope so. Shiro would be crushed if for some reason things don’t work out this time around.

 

They finish off the night full bellies and voices almost going hoarse from singing. Keith has a warm feeling settling in his belly, a _good_ feeling that he thinks only good friends can fill. Shiro comes to pick him up and they hug him goodbye and wish them fun on their date tomorrow.

 

Keith feels so good he could almost reach out and grab Shiro’s hand on the car ride home. But he knows the feeling is temporary. He doesn’t want to take down boundaries he isn’t ready to keep down and give Shiro some kind of false hope. So, he just settles for smiling at him instead.

 

“You look pretty happy,” Shiro says smiling back.

 

“Yeah. I am.”

 

“Good. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

 

Keith goes to bed with the ghost of a smile on his lips, new drawings on his cast, and the Be a Man song from Mulan stuck in his head. He falls asleep hoping the good feeling lasts.


	8. VII

Sunday morning Keith is up far earlier than he should be. He’s not sure what wakes him -- some noise from outside, a dream that he can’t recall, or simple anticipation for the day to come. It’s probably the anticipation.

 

He rolls himself over, closes his eyes, and tries to will himself back to sleep. And then he rolls over to the other side. And then he lays on his back. And then he plops a pillow over his face, takes a deep breath of his own shampoo smell, and waits for Shiro to come get him for the morning.

 

He feels like there’s some unspoken pressure on him for this upcoming date. Shiro would never admit it, but Keith has a deep sinking feeling like Shiro is expecting Keith to behave a certain way, for him to be the way he used to be, or to react to things a specific way. Shiro is likely expecting Keith to react to the date positively, but there’s something else, too. Like maybe he thinks Keith will fall in love with him after this date. Or worse, will suddenly remember everything he’s forgotten.

 

Keith has yet to have any part of his memory jogged. Sometimes he feels like maybe he dreamt something that’s supposed to be familiar with, but he wakes with disjointed images and feelings that fade almost as soon as he tries to grasp at them. He thinks one of the dreams was the beach adventure there’s a picture of in the living room. He doesn’t recall anything from the dream but the smell of saltwater, a grainy feeling on his skin, the sound of distant laughter. He was happy in the dream. Then he woke and most of the dream was all but gone.

 

Keith tries to shove down his worries. He _needs_ this date with Shiro if he’s going to get any semblance of normalcy in his life. Also, it sounds like a fun time. Shiro had planned out the whole day for them. Breakfast at the diner they used to frequent, a movie, a walk on one of the trails in the park, grab some dinner, ending with a trip out to a field to stargaze. Everything about the date was sappy and romantic, and he was grateful for the effort. Watching Shiro happily and excitedly tell him a few days ago what he had planned out had made Keith’s heart unexpectedly swell.

 

 _Unexpectedly…_ Shiro was his boyfriend, it shouldn’t be unexpected. He’s supposed to love Shiro, yet to have any feelings toward the man catches him off guard. He should be glad, but it scares him.

 

Shiro loves him. Keith might love him, too. Why Keith was afraid of that, he had no idea.

 

Maybe he's afraid of the pressure to be what Shiro sees him as, and then having to keep up that appearance. Maybe he’s afraid that Shiro will get tired of waiting for things to go back to the way they were before -- that he’ll be disappointed when they don’t. Maybe he’s afraid that he’s relying too much on Shiro for cues on how things are supposed to be. It could be any of these reasons; they have all crossed his mind more than once. Usually on occasions like this that find him lying in bed, unable to sleep, with face pressed one way or another into his pillow, trying to drown everything out.

 

Eventually, he hears Shiro’s door creak and his footsteps pad down the hall. He hears the shower run, hears it shut off, then the sound of the curtain. Keith moves his pillow from his face and takes another deep breath, preparing for Shiro to pop his head in. Time to get into a better mindset. _Think positive_ , he tells himself. _Today will be good._

 

Sometime later, he hears his door open and smells coffee. Ah, the early morning peace offering.

 

When he looks up at Shiro he looks so… _happy._ Keith doesn’t think he’s seen Shiro look this happy since he’s woken up. He looks like a kid waking up his family on Christmas morning. And despite the nervous knot in Keith’s stomach, he feels a smile tug at his mouth. Seeing Shiro so happy makes him happy, too.

 

He slowly sits up, accepting the coffee. Shiro sits on the edge of his bed, beaming and smelling like soap and aftershave. “Thanks, Shiro.”

 

“No problem. I know you’re not a morning person.”

 

Huh. That made sense, considering more often than not Keith doesn’t get out of bed until Shiro has already gone to see his morning clients.

 

He occupies himself with his coffee, sipping and letting the warmth spread through him.

 

“We can leave whenever you’re ready, by the way,” Shiro says. “No rush, though.”

 

Keith stretches and sets his cup down, nodding. “Okay, okay, I’m getting up. You look like you’re waiting for us to get in the car for Disneyland or something,” he says fondly.

 

A bigger smile spreads across Shiro’s face. “Am I that obvious?” He scratches behind his neck. “I don’t want to overwhelm you or make you nervous or anything but… I _am_ excited.”

 

“I can see that. I’m just gonna hop in the shower & throw on some clothes. Then I’ll be good.”

 

A quick shower later and Keith and Shiro are ready for their day and on their way out of town.

 

They drive out of the city and past the suburbs. They haven’t even hit the town yet when they come to the restaurant. There isn’t a lot of traffic, situated off of an old two-lane road with a gravel parking lot and a flickering sign that says “OPEN”. It's a far cry from the city where Shiro and Keith live. It feels open and fresh and like he can breathe out here.

 

Ever the gentleman, Shiro opens the door to the restaurant for him. It’s a nice little diner. Not like a 50’s aesthetic with checkered floors and red vinyl booths. It's more like a quaint family owned joint, with off colored white walls and ugly green carpet, wooden tables and chairs and booths. It was simple and nice.

 

There'a booth in a back corner but still next to the window that he makes a beeline to.

 

“This is the table you used to pick,” Shiro says, laughing a bit as he slides in.

 

“Boys! I haven’t seen you in _years_!” Keith hears an older woman shout from the counter. She makes her way over to them with a huge smile on her face and a hot pot of coffee.

 

“My goodness, look at you fine young boys! Aren’t you two so handsome these days.”

 

“Hey, Martha. It’s nice to see you,” Shiro says smiling warmly.

 

“Hi, Martha,” Keith says, picking up on the name from Shiro, not wanting to be awkward and not wanting to explain that he was now an amnesiac.

 

“Well, how have you boys been?” Martha asks while she filled up two cups of steaming coffee for them.

 

“Uh, well actually--”

 

“We’ve been doing great,” Keith cuts Shiro off before he could finish. He shouldn’t have talked over him, but Keith really doesn’t want to have the whole I-don’t-remember-anything conversation. He shoots Shiro a pleading look and hope he understands. Shiro’s eyes are wide in surprise but he decides to play along anyway and Keith breathes a sigh of relief.

 

“Uh… Yes. We’ve been doing really well Martha, how about you?”

 

Martha then launches into an update, talking about how her daughter is getting married, her son just had a baby, but her mom’s been sick, all with Shiro chiming in “Ohhs” and “that’s great!” and “I’m sorry to hear that.”

 

“Well, I bet you two are hungry. What can I get for you? Your old usuals?”

 

Feeling cheeky and a little curious, Keith agrees. “Yes, that sounds great.”

 

“You know, yeah, I’ll have mine too,” Shiro says, handing back their menus.

 

“Alright, I’ll put those right in for you!”

 

After she leaves to put their order in and check on other customers, Shiro leans across the table and says lowly, “Where did that come from?”

 

“I don’t know. I just... I didn’t want to deal with that whole conversation. I just. I don’t want to think about it today. I just want to have a nice day with you.”

 

Shiro smiles softly at him, and reaches across the table to lay his hand on Keith’s. Keith blushes and doesn’t pull his hand away.

 

Shiro’s regular is a huge omelet with a at least 3 different meats and an assortment of veggies and cheese. Keith has no idea if Shiro will even eat all of that, but when he sees his meal he realizes he has his own problem to worry about. Keith has a full stack of chocolate chip pancakes, two eggs, toast, sausage and bacon. Holy shit, they must have had insane appetites in their younger days.

 

“Jesus, Shiro, how are we supposed to eat all this?!”

 

Shiro, already digging into his omelet, says, “Speak for yourself,” around a fork full of food.

 

It takes them a bit to finish their meals, but they do it. They pay the bill and bid Martha farewell as they head back to the car. Keith feels full and slow and like he could use a nap.

 

“Shiro. Nap time.” Keith rests his head against the glass of his window.

 

“Oh, no you don’t. We still have a whole day ahead of us.”

 

“But I’m fuuuuuull,” Keith whines, but Shiro grants him no rest. Next on their list of things to do is a matinee movie.

 

They drive into the small town, driving past the houses, a few businesses, and a small school. Keith wonders if he or any of his friends lived in these houses, if their families lived in them now. He wonders if that was the school where he and Shiro met. Shiro doesn’t pause to tell him, though, eventually pulling into the movie theater parking lot.

 

They watch a shitty horror movie. They start off not touching, just comfortably sitting next to each other and letting the movie set up the story. When the first jump scare hits, Shiro audibly gasps next to him and grabs Keith’s hand, making Keith chuckle under his breath. He squeezes Shiro’s hand to comfort him.

 

By the end of the movie, Shiro is crouched behind his knees and has a death grip on Keith’s hand, and it’s honestly more entertaining than the movie itself.

 

“Damn, I wish I’d known you were gonna be such a weenie,” Keith teases and Shiro blushes. They’re still holding hands until they have to get into the car.

 

Next, they drive the rest of the way through town and to the outskirts until they come to the park with the walking trails.

 

The walking trail is full of tall trees and a lot shade. Every once in a while, there’s a clearing in the trees, and Keith is able to look out and admire the hills in the distance.

 

“This is… So beautiful out here.”

 

Shiro smiles and says, “Indeed it is. We would come out here all the time. You loved it out here, all the peace and quiet. You always came out here when you wanted to get away.”

 

Keith can see himself doing that. He stands and closes his eyes and just breathes for a moment; the fresh air and the sound of the trees rustling instantly relax him. It calms his nerves and helps him feel at peace.

 

Eventually, he and Shiro walk to the end of the trail and back, working themselves up an appetite, which was surprising after the huge breakfast they’d had.

 

After dinner, they get in the car and drive out of town until they find a gravel road that Shiro seems to recognize, turning onto it. After a few minutes, Shiro pulls off the road and into a field.

 

“Well. This is it,” He announces, putting the car in park. “I had an old Jeep called a CJ. It was big and boxy, but we loved to take it on these back roads and find fields like this to talk in.”

 

Keith can see it. Climbing into an old jeep after a long day and just riding shotgun while Shiro found somewhere for them to relax.

 

“Then we’d wait until dark and we’d look up. We’d try to name all the constellations, sometimes making it a race who could find them the fastest. We’d talk about what we thought was up there, if aliens were real, if we thought humans were going to live on Mars or the moon, if we’d ever be up there one day flying."

 

Keith snorts. "I don’t think airline pilots are cleared for space travel.”

 

Shiro smiles and shrugs. “You used to think maybe technology would advance enough that they could; that we’d be able to fly smaller, more commercial aircrafts in space.”

 

“Huh. I don’t know about all that.”

 

“See, that's what I used to say, then you’d argue with me.” Shiro nudges him in the ribs, teasing. “It’ll be dark soon. Do you want to lay on the hood?”

 

Shiro’s car is a far cry from an SUV, let alone a Jeep; It's newer, cleaner, sleeker. But they can still slide onto the hood, carefully, as not to scratch or dent it.

 

They stare up at the sky, waiting for the sun to sink the rest of the way down.

 

“What was it like to fly up there?” He asks Shiro.

 

“It was… amazing. I saw some of the most beautiful sites from an aerial view. Everything down here would look like ants, rivers looks like tear tracks, trees looks like broccoli heads...and some of the prettiest sunrises and sunsets i’ve seen were from the cockpit of an airplane.”

 

Keith pouts.

 

“It’s so unfair they won’t let you pilot anymore.”

 

“Hmm. A little. But I like what I do now. I help people, y’know? So many people want to take care of their bodies, but don’t know how, and that’s where I come in. And they’re so happy when they see results. It makes it worth it.”

 

“Hm. If you say so.”

 

“I know so,” Shiro chuckles. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve made my peace with it.”

 

After a while it's finally dark enough to see the stars. And there are _so many._ For a moment, it makes Keith feel very small.

 

They look up and talk about the stars and the planets, about Jupiter’s moons and how they move in a helix shape, and Saturn’s icy rings, about stars being suns for other distant planets; they talknabout how vast and endless the universe seems, how there has to be something else living in the universe besides them.

 

Eventually, Shiro starts to point out constellations. “That one’s you,” he says. “Scorpio.” He pointsnout the claws and the body leading to the tail.

 

“Huh… Which one are you?”

 

“Pisces. It won’t be in the sky right now though. It kinda looks like a V that represent two fish jumping out of the water.”

 

“Seriously? How does someone look at a V and think it’s fish?”

 

Shiro laughs. “When time travel is invented, I’ll go back in time and ask the ancient astronomers.”

 

They continue like that for what has to be a few hours, watching the stars slowly moving across the sky, talk about constellations, telling stories, and just talking. Keith’s actually sad when Shiro says they should be heading home.

 

He lays in bed that night and dreams of flying among the stars with Shiro by his side.


	9. VIII

A few weeks later, Keith has another dream. When he wakes all he remembers is the feeling of overwhelming fear and helplessness and vague images of a giant man looming over him. His eyes fly open, heart pounding in his chest, and he can’t catch his breath for a moment. He looks over at the clock -- 5:54 AM, just before Shiro has to be up for work. He’s left on his own to calm himself down and root himself back into his current reality. He doesn’t mind it.

 

He supposes there could be some comfort that Shiro could give, maybe even could answer some questions about if his dream is rooted in a memory or not. But things with Shiro have been… different lately.

 

Of course, things are different after their date. After their very _successful_ date. That was the point. They were growing closer, touchier. Shiro was less hesitant to grab his hand, to wrap an arm around him, to call him babe. Every act of affection made Keith’s chest flutter and made him blush. And he thought this would make him happy. He thought this was what he wanted, to be comfortable with Shiro, to feel like he belongs here, for them both to be happy. But Keith must have broken more than just his memory, because he was _afraid_ to be happy. What was wrong with him?

  
  
The more his feelings grow for Shiro, the more his ever-lingering worries and insecurities feel more threatening. The pressure to be the Old Keith, especially now that Shiro seems so happy and hopeful, feels like it's just getting heavier. And the feeling that things would fall apart if Keith can't live up to those standards just weigh on him. They went on a date, things are great, and Keith is still scared that things are actually bad.

 

Keith sighs deeply, clenching and unclenching his fingers recently freed from the cast. He looks over at his cacti on his windowsill in their little buckets. He almost feels sad that he doesn’t know what they look like in the red dirt of the desert, growing freely. He wonders if it would be better for them. Surely it would be better for them to grow freely out in the red desert dirt than in a sad little bucket in someone’s spare bedroom. They’d be bigger, he imagines, taller than himself, even. They’d reach a potential not before thought possible.

 

Maybe there’s a hidden potential inside Keith somewhere. Keith wonders how much he would grow out on his own somewhere.

 

As soon as it crosses his mind he finds it absurd. Why would he go somewhere else? He has friends that care about him, a boyfriend that loves him, and a place to live. Even when his life was turned completely upside-down, he still has Shiro. Where would he be without Shiro?

 

 _What_ would he be without Shiro?

 

The question jars him.

 

Keith’s spent a lot of time taking cues from Shiro on how things are _supposed_ to be. What if he didn’t worry about how things are supposed to be -- much less, how things are supposed to be, according to Shiro?

 

Keith really has feelings for Shiro, he does. He’s a warm, kind man. He’s gorgeous while still managing to be cute, he makes Keith laugh, and always tries to accommodate for Keith’s feelings. He comforts when he’s needed, he pulls back when Keith is overwhelmed, he answers his questions, and helps fill in blanks. He’s been unendingly patient, and Keith is grateful for everything Shiro’s done for him. And Keith is _trying_ , he’s trying so hard, to reciprocate even an ounce of that same kindness toward Shiro. He lets Shiro hold his hand and cuddle on the couch, but he still gets overwhelmed. He still has doubts plaguing him. And the pressure is always lingering the back of his mind waiting to rear its ugly head.

 

Keith wants Shiro to be happy. He wants to make Shiro happy and live up to the expectations of being Shiro’s high school sweetheart. But Keith is starting to think there is a lot more that needs to be done before he can do that. There is a lot he needs to do before he can make Shiro happy, and the first step is making himself happy and comfortable.

 

He doesn’t know what that means or how he’s going to do that, but he decides to file this thought process for another time. He gives his cacti one last look and imagines them growing in the desert mountains before, shutting his mind off and falling asleep again.

 

He dreams of the color red, blistering heat, and a dry wind, and prickly cacti needles pressing into his palms.

 

* * *

“Dude, what’s bothering you?” Pidge grouses to his left.

 

Hunk was visiting his family for a few days and Lance was still sleeping, promptly followed by a shift at the bar, and Pidge was bored by herself. She asked Keith if he wanted to come visit, and now here he was sat on her couch while he watches her play video games.

 

And he’d been thinking. He’d been rolling around the thoughts he was having that morning -- about how the more the thought he was supposed to be happy, the less he actually was. And those damn cacti. Something about them wouldn’t leave him alone.

 

But Pidge questioning him rouses him from his thoughts for a moment. “Huh?”

 

“I said,” she begins while aggressively hitting a button on her controller, about to be killed by another player. “What’s bothering you? You’re being all quiet and moody.”

 

Keith pouts. “I’m not being moody.”

 

“Keith. You practically invented being moody, hate to break it to you.”

 

“I think I’m entitled to be at least a little moody, for someone in my situation.”

 

Pidge snorts. “You sound like that meme. ‘I happen to bitch the perfect amount for someone in my situation.’”

 

Meme? “What?”

 

Pidge sighs deeply. “Ugh. Never mind. Anyway, why so glum? I thought your date went okay.”

 

“That’s just the problem,” Keith mumbles, hoping it was too quiet for Pidge to hear.

 

It was not.

 

“What do you mean, that’s the problem?”

 

“I…” Keith pauses for a moment and thinks about how much he wants to divulge and how exactly he wants to tell it. Simplest terms are best, he supposes. “It just scares me, is all.”

 

“Scares you?”

 

“Yeah. I mean. Shiro and I had a whole life together. From the sounds of it, we were basically kids when we met and grew together. Our relationship grew together, you know? And it’s like half of that has been ripped away. And where does that leave me? I have nothing to go off of here, I’m just trying to get my bearings, but Shiro holds all of this history that I don’t know. He can recreate our first date, but to him, it’s just that. A recreation. To me it’s our first date. He knows everything; our first date, our first dance, our first kiss. And I have nothing but what he tells me, just secondhand stories like they happened to someone else. It _feels_ like they happened to someone else.”

  
  
Keith doesn’t expect to spill so much, and he much less expects Pidge to set down her controller to fully listen to him, but she does. She waits for him to continue, so he does.

 

“I don’t know, Pidge, I just feel like... Something was lost and we’re not going to get it back. Or I guess, Shiro isn’t going to get it back. I’m not who I used to be. Sure, there are things that are similar, but in the end, those stories and experiences that made me who I am are just… gone. Some days it feels like I just need to go find out who I really am.”

 

“Hmm,” Pidge hums, thinking. “What do you mean by ‘Go find out’ who you really are?”

Keith sighs. “I don’t know, I just think... with Shiro it feels like there’s a person he’s expecting me to be, or he’s expecting me to act a certain way. I just think sometimes maybe I should be on my own to figure out who to be… to figure out who I am.”

 

“Keith… Look. You know Shiro loves you, right? Like, it doesn’t matter that you don’t have your old memories and that, to you, you didn’t grow together like Shiro remembers you did. You grew together once, and I’m sure he’s willing to do it again. I mean, obviously. You’re still together, because there’s something inside of both of you that wants to make it work. You should just talk to him about it. And as far wanting to figure out who you are, that’s totally understandable. We all know that you’re a different person now and that everything’s changed. But we’re all willing to help you figure things out. You know that, right -- that you don’t have to do any of this alone?”

 

Keith suddenly finds his cuticles very interesting as he starts shoving them down with his nails to give his hands something to do. “Yeah… I know that… It’s just. Sometimes I feel like I _should_ … just because I don’t want to feel like I’m being told who to be based on who I was. Like I said, I’m not that person. I don’t think I can be.”

 

“ _Do_ you feel like you’re being told who to be?”

 

Keith sighs again. “Ugh. I don’t know, Pidge. Maybe not intentionally. But sometimes it’ll just be a comment about how I never used to do a certain thing, or how I used to do something that I don’t anymore. Then I feel like I’m disappointing.”

 

Pidge reaches out then and puts her hand on his shoulder, squeezing. “Hey. No one is disappointed in you. Honestly, we’re just proud you’ve made it this far. We’re just happy you’re in our lives, dude.”

 

Keith thinks he hears her sniffle and looks up to see that her eyes are damp. And Keith thinks his heart might burst with how much these people care about him. They all simply just want him around the way he is, and he can’t get over it. It’s too good to be true.

 

“Don’t say anything,” she says. “My eyes are just sweating.” That makes him giggle a bit. She hands him the controller. “Here. Stop thinking for a bit, yeah? Just forget about everything in that dumb brain of yours and just. Kill some shit.”

 

Keith thoroughly enjoys the act of just killing shit for a while, giving his mind something to do, a task to meet, instead of just agonizingly over thinking everything. Lance eventually comes out, sits down to play a couple rounds, and then heads out to work for the night.

 

It feels like the text from Shiro asking when he wants to come home comes all too soon. And there’s that dread again, rearing its ugly head. Keith just wants to be happy without his brain having other plans for him. Pidge smiles, tells him everything will be okay. He desperately wants to believe her.


	10. IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to get on the Angst Train. I'm... I'm sorry.

Keith is on another date with Shiro. This time to a fancy dinner, a show, and drive to the city overlook to see the lights at night.

 

The dinner is lacking, but Keith doesn’t want to tell Shiro that; the food is certainly not worth what it costs, and the atmosphere is stuffy and uncomfortable, but Keith tries to enjoy himself. Shiro went through trouble to plan a nice night, the least Keith could do is try to not look miserable.

 

“Is something wrong?” Shiro asks across the table, frowning.

 

“No, nothing. Just, uh… taking it all in.”

 

That’s one way to put it, he supposes.

 

Keith tries to pay attention to the show, but his mind keeps wandering. Sometimes the audience will laugh around him and he finds himself trying to catch up on what he missed. Shiro keeps shooting glances at him, noticing he’s not paying attention.

 

At the city overlook, Shiro asks Keith again if something is wrong.

 

“You’re awfully quiet,” he says.

 

Keith shrugs. “Maybe I’m just a quiet guy.

 

Shiro pouts. “Keith, come on, don’t be like that.”

 

“Like what?” he bites, harder than he intended. But Shiro keeps his cool.

 

“If something’s bothering you, maybe I can help.”

 

“It’s nothing, Shiro.”

 

“Keith--”

 

“I said it’s nothing!”

 

His outburst garners some attention from some other people at the overlook, but they quickly go back to minding their own business. Shiro and Keith continue to look at the city in tense silence until Shiro says they should go home.

 

The car ride home is long and quiet and awkward. Keith doesn’t even know what it was that put him in such a bad mood. Surely it wasn’t anything Shiro had done, was it? Perhaps he was just tired of his mind circling around the same negative thoughts.

 

When they get in the apartment Shiro tries yet _again_ to get Keith to talk to him.

 

“Keith, are you sure--”

 

“Yes! It’s nothing  you can help with!”

 

“So there is something?”

 

 _Fuck_.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Keith, can’t you just talk to me?”

 

“What’s there to talk about?”

 

“About what’s bothering you!” Shiro raises his voice a bit, exasperated, which only leads to Keith raising his voice.

 

“You want to know what’s bothering me?! There isn’t a single thing about this whole situation that doesn’t bother me! Every day I wake up and have no idea who I am. That’s what bothers me. Every day it feels like I’m fucking lost, like I don’t know where I am or what I’m doing. It feels like I’m a 23-year-old newborn literally just thrust into an already in progress life and I have to trust the people around me to help me pick up the missing pieces to make some kind of _sense_ out of all of this!”

 

Keith doesn’t realize he’s yelling until he stops to take a breath.

 

“Keith… I had no idea you felt this way. We should really talk about this. Let me help you.”

 

“No. It’s fine. You can’t help anyway.”

 

Shiro looks crushed at that. He then sighs and runs a hand over his face. “God you’re so temperamental sometimes… feels like I’m talking to the old you.” The ghost of a smile one Shiro’s lips says that he’d meant it as a comment to lighten the mood. All it does is light the fire already smoldering in Keith.

 

“Well good to know!” He yells. “God forbid I'm not like the ‘old Keith’. Have you even thought about if I don't ever go back to being the old Keith?!”

 

Shiro looks at him, dejected, realizing he’d just messed up. “Keith…”

 

“No, Shiro! You can’t just keep thinking everything is just going to go back to the way it was. _I_ don’t _remember_ how it was, and I won’t, ever!”

 

“Keith, I know, I was just… I’m trying to help. I don’t want to lose you or what we had.”

 

“I think you need to accept that you already have.”

 

The words shock the both of them as soon as they come out of his mouth. He snaps his mouth shut, turns around, and goes to his room before he can say anything else. Shiro follows closely behind him, calling out his name and trying to get him to stop without reaching out and physically stopping him.

 

Keith doesn’t listen. He goes to his room and firmly shuts the door. His heart pounds in his chest. He had never, _never_ , intended to say all that to Shiro. He had never intended to raise his voice or turn and walk away from him.

 

Shiro keeps knocking on his door and calling his name, but Keith just falls back onto his bed and shoves a pillow over his face.

 

 _Fuck_ , he can’t believe he did that.

 

* * *

 

He and Shiro avoid each other for the rest of the night. Or at least, Keith holes himself in the spare room and ignores when Shiro lightly taps on his door. Keith knew he was being childish but he didn’t care. Everything had been building and bubbling for far too long, and once he was able to release, he couldn’t come back down.

 

There was a part of him, slowly clawing  its way to the surface, that felt bad for fighting with Shiro. Shiro was just trying his best, trying to make sure Keith was comfortable and happy. But Keith was trying his best, too, to be what Shiro deserved. But it never felt good enough. And Keith wasn’t sure if it ever would.

 

And that was that. His mind was made up, then. Shiro deserved better. He deserved an apology, first and foremost, but mostly, he just deserved _better_.

 

Shiro deserved a better lover and Keith couldn’t be that for him. Not when he was still struggling with his identity, let alone his relationship.

 

He just… needs to go.

 

Keith needs to fix himself. And if Shiro wants to wait until he does, then more power to him. But if Shiro wants to be with someone with fewer issues who can actually reciprocate his love and affection, Keith hopes he’ll finally be happy. Regardless of what Shiro will decide, he just knows he needs to be on his own for a while.

 

Keith walks to the kitchen before he can lose his momentum or talk himself out of it. His limbs are almost as heavy as his heart as he trudges out of the bedroom.

 

Shiro is sitting at the island on his laptop. Shiro does this sometimes, gets tired of the living room or the desk and will sit at the island, casual and calm. Shiro looks like he belongs here. Keith is supposed to belong here, too. It makes his heart hurt in a way he can't explain, a wave of nostalgia for something he can't remember having, but he can almost feel anyway. Shiro is beautiful, rivaled only by the black and white marble of the counter, worn pajamas and glasses, a mug of tea just to his right. He looks so comfortable here.  And in this moment, Keith so desperately wishes he loved Shiro. That he wasn't about to break his heart.

 

Shiro looks up at him before he gets the chance to speak. He… he looks so sad already just from their fight, and the words get caught in Keith’s throat before he can say them.

 

He doesn’t _want_ to hurt Shiro. He doesn’t want to hurt his friends. But this doesn’t feel like a matter of what he wants; it’s a matter of what he needs.

 

“Keith…” Shiro closes his laptop. “I’m sorry. I… I had no idea you felt that way -- that so much was bothering you.”

 

It was true; In Shiro’s defense, Keith hadn’t talked to him. In Keith’s defense, Keith didn’t know _how_. How was he supposed to tell the man that was in love with him that he was constantly waiting for the shoe to drop? That despite his best efforts, he still felt out of place and overwhelmed?

 

How was he supposed to tell him that despite everything he can’t stay any longer?

 

“Keith, we should really talk about this. We can talk this out.”

 

Keith’s slowly makes his way to the island to sit next to Shiro. Shiro puts his arm around him, warm and comforting around his back and pulling him into Shiro’s side and that’s when Keith almost loses it.

 

He can feel his face grow warm and his nose sting. The tears well in his eyes but he can’t let them fall, not right now. He has to break the news first.

 

But he can’t speak. There’s a lump in his throat and tears threatening to spill if he so much as says Shiro’s name and he… he just can’t.  


“We’ll be okay,” Shiro says.

 

Keith wishes he could believe him. But his mind is made up.

 

He takes a deep breath. “Shiro--” he chokes out, voice breaking. He takes another breath to calm himself. “Shiro I have to tell you--”

 

But he can’t. The tears flow and he can’t stop them.

 

“Baby? Tell me what? Come on, don’t cry. Then I’ll cry. And you know I’m ugly when I cry,” Shiro rubs up and down his back and his arm, trying to calm him, trying to get him to smile, but it doesn’t work.

 

“Shiro, I-- I’m leaving.”

 

Shiro tenses and freezes next to him. “Baby, what do you mean?”

 

“I have to go…”

 

“Go? Go where?”

 

“I… I don’t know, but I just… I need to.”

 

“Keith,” Shiro’s voice is shaking. “You… you really shouldn’t leave with nowhere to go. You can’t--”

 

“I have to,” Keith cuts him off. “I’m… I’m so lost Shiro. I’m lost and I need to find myself. And I think I need to do it on my own.”

 

“No, no, no you don’t, baby,” Shiro is begging, crying now, too. “You don’t have to do this on your own.”

 

“Shiro. I do. I can’t… I can’t keep looking to you for answers. Or to Pidge, or Lance, or Hunk. I can’t keep relying on you all to know who I am. And honestly, you deserve someone who isn’t so… _broken_. You deserve someone whole and someone who can love you.”

 

“You are whole!” Shiro argues. “It doesn’t matter what you remember or what you know. It only matters that you’re here next to me. Your smile, your laugh, your yell, even your cry… The way my heart still beats just as strong for you today as it did seven years ago, that’s what makes you whole. The fact that you’re here and you’re trying. I never once thought you were broken.”

 

Keith breaks down listening to Shiro beg him to stay, begging him to believe that it doesn’t matter that he’s a shell of his former self. And Keith can’t take it. Because he _is_ a shell of who he used to be, he _is_ broken, he _is_ lost, and hearing Shiro say otherwise doesn’t solve the problem.

 

“Shiro. You’re so good to me, you really are. And I’m grateful for everything, but. I need to do this. I know you don’t see it, but I do.”

 

Shiro is openly sobbing now, they both are. Shiro looks so devastated, clinging to Keith like if he could just hold him a little longer it would convince him to stay.

 

For the first time in months, Keith lets himself burrow into Shiro, lets himself nuzzle into him and finally give him the bit of affection he’d been giving Keith this whole time. Shiro can tell he was giving more than he usually did. He cries harder.

 

“After… After your accident, I thought we were going to lose you. I was so scared I was going to lose  you. Then you woke up and I thought it’d be okay. I… I never thought you’d leave by choice.”

 

Keith chokes. It’s true, it was his choice to stay or go. But it doesn’t feel like a choice at all.

 

“I’m so sorry, Shiro,” he whispers. And he means it. He truly means it.

 

Shiro pulls back and cradles cheeks face with his hands, wiping the tears with his thumbs.

 

“There’s nothing I can say to make you stay?”

 

Keith sullenly shakes his head, wishing that there was.

 

“I have to go,” he says, pulling away.

 

“Right now?”

 

“I… I think so.”

 

“It’s dark. Wait until morning?”

 

“I don’t know… I don’t think we should drag this out.”

 

Shiro looked at him so pitifully, a fresh wave of tears about to fall. “Come on, I’ll make you breakfast in the morning. I’ll -- I’ll help you pack, drive you to the bus station.” He rubbed up and down Keith’s arms again. “One more night.”

 

So Keith stays one more night. He lets Shiro hold him while they lay on the couch and try not to think about what tomorrow will bring. Keith lets Shiro fall asleep holding him and he doesn’t try to get up and go to his own room.

 

And when they wake in the morning, he lets Shiro cry on his shoulder while he tries not to break down again. He packs a suitcase full of clothes and a couple books, and packs a bag with some shower supplies. His whole life fits into this one suitcase.

 

The drive to the bus station is quiet and makes his heart heavy.

 

“Any idea where you’re going yet?”

 

“No.”

 

“Do you need any money?”

 

“No. I have some in savings.” There was indeed a nice chunk of money he’d had in his savings that he must have been saving for years. Keith isn’t exactly sure what for, but he supposes that doesn’t matter now.

 

If Shiro has any idea why he has money in savings, he doesn’t say. He just nods and keeps driving.

 

They pull into the parking lot of the bus station. Shiro puts the car in park and takes a deep breath. “Well. We’re here.”

 

“Yeah…”

 

Once they're out of the car ad before they part, Shiro reaches for him and pulls him into a hug, holding tight and nuzzling into Keith’s hair with his nose, Keith pressed into Shiro’s chest.

 

Shiro takes another breath and says, “I wish there was something I could do to make you stay.”

 

“I know,” Keith whispers. “I’m sorry.”

 

And Keith is sure that even in his previous life he’s never felt as sorry as he does right now.


	11. X

Keith gets on a bus for Arizona. After he gets on, he sends a message to Shiro to let him know, which he he promised to do, and shuts his phone off for the rest of the ride.

 

The bus ride is unbearably long and uncomfortable. The motel he decides to stay in is shabby and smells musty and he only gets the basic news networks. But he made it. He’s here. So now what?

 

He turns on his phone and regrets it immediately. There are 7 missed calls, a few voicemails, and a sea of never ending text messages.

 

There’s a text from Shiro

 

**Shiro (loves you):**

Okay. Be safe. Call me if you need anything, or even if you want to talk. I love you, Keith. So much.

 

There texts from Lance, Hunk, and Pidge.

 

**Pidgeon:**

What the FUCK are you doing??????

Keith you better answer me, right now.

How can you just leave????

This better be a joke.

You better come back. You better turn the fuck around

I’ll track your phone.

KEITH?

Fine then, dick. Dont call me if you need anything.

 

**Lance Sucks:**

ok what the fuck is your problem?

I know none of this has been easy on you but it hasnt been easy on us either

you should have let usfucking help you

but youre only thinking of yourself. as usual

 

**Hunk (of burnin love):**

I know you’re going through a lot but you could have just talked to us instead of leaving us

We care so much about you. Any one of us would drop anything to help you

Pidge said she even has talked to you and she told you tht you can come to her whenever. And you s till leave us? You still leave shiro?

This is probably the most uncool thing you’ve done, dude.

 

Reading all of their messages makes him want to throw up. He knew he would upset them, but it feels like they _hate_ him. They think he’s just leaving them because he feels like it, like he’s abandoning them.

 

He would never just abandon them, any of them. He’s _not_ abandoning them. He just needs to fix himself before he can be with them. He needs to find himself. He needs to be able to look in the mirror and know who’s looking back at him instead of seeing a stranger.

 

He turns his phone off again. He hopes when he goes back to them they’ll understand. When he goes back to them and is ready to give back everything they’ve given to him, when he finally knows who he is, they’ll understand. He hopes they won’t hate him for it.

 

 Most of all, he hopes he isn’t making a huge mistake.

 

* * *

 

Keith buys a shitty beater car, starts working at a small garage, and rents a bedroom out of one of his customer’s home.

 

She’s a sweet old lady named Bethel whose starter he replaced. Her kids are moved out and her husband recently passed away. Honestly, she’s undercharging him to rent, but she seems to just be glad to help him out in exchange for having someone around the house to help with things she can’t. He mows the lawn, takes her grocery shopping, fixes things in the house here and there. She makes him a home cooked meal every night.

 

She’d asked about where he was from and what he did before coming here, and after he he told her he had amnesia, she just tutted and said what a shame it was. So instead he asked her about her kids and her husband and her life and she was just happy to have someone to talk to, it seemed. And it was nice for him to hear someone else’s stories, stories that he wasn’t in.

 

He constantly debates disconnecting his phone, the only thing keeping him from doing so is knowing his friends deserve to know he’s still alive. He kept getting messages from everyone. His friends trying to get through to him, sometimes telling him he fucked up, and other times saying it was fine and they want to help him. Sometimes they just wanted to know he was still alive, Pidge threatening to hack his phone and track him down to make sure he was still breathing. Often Shiro would text to just say he was thinking of him and that he hoped he was okay.

 

The only messages he responds to are questions about his wellbeing, letting them know he was okay.

 

When Keith isn’t busy working or helping Bethel, he spent a lot of time thinking.

 

He keeps to himself. He gets in his old car and drives around the town and on the back roads and lets his mind wander. He walks the paths and the trails in the parks. He hikes out in the desert, walking until his legs go sore and he sits in the dirt and searches the red rock for answers.

 

The cacti grow tall and beautiful and prickly and he wishes he could be like them -- tall and solid and right where they belong.

 

The spring blooms into summer, and summer fades to fall, and before Keith knows it the winter holidays are coming. Everywhere are ads for Thanksgiving about spending time with family and loved ones, and every time Keith sees one his chest gets tighter.

 

“Honey, why don’t you go see your friends? Just a little visit. I’m sure they miss you.”  


They do miss him. And he misses _them_. A lot. But he’s not ready to go back, yet. He hasn’t found what he’s looking for.

 

“Not yet, Bethel. Maybe soon.”

 

He gets an invite for a “Friendsgiving” Feast from Hunk. He doesn’t respond.

 

Thanksgiving and Christmas come and go, Keith making himself scarce and staying at a hotel so Bethel can spend time with her family in peace. She invited him to join but he respectfully declined.

 

New Years is the worst. It's cold in the mountains but he hikes them anyway, following a path he frequented often enough to know by heart, finding his spot and collapsing in the dirt. It's a whole new year and he doesn't feel like he was any closer to what he's looking for.

 

If it were even possible, he feels like he’s _more_ lost than he was before. He’s doing alright on his own; he’s living well and keeping busy, but he feels like he isn't getting anywhere. And as time continues to go on, he feels more and more lonely. There are times where he almost calls Shiro. He didn’t even know what he would say. That he misses him? That he felt like this was a mistake? That nothing’s working out the way he thought it would?

 

He doesn’t know if he can admit that. He doesn’t know if he can just give up on the reason that he uprooted himself, hurt his friends, and broke Shiro’s heart. He caused so much trouble. He owes it to them and to himself to at least return successful.

 

But it’s been months that he’s been out on his own and he still hasn’t found himself. All he’s found is that he misses Shiro, enough so to make him doubt this whole soul searching journey.

 

He sits there in the desert until he's shivering and his nose runs and his cheeks burn from the wind. All he’s accomplished this visit is feeling like absolute crap.

 

The feeling isn’t any better when he finally gets back to Bethel's and checks his phone. One missed call and a voicemail from Lance. He thinks maybe it might just be a Happy New Year message and he decides to listen to it.

 

It is not a Happy New Year Message.

 

“Of course you don’t answer…” Lance slurs through the speaker. He's drunk. “I don’t know why I expect any different at this point. You… You know what, Keith? You know, this is our second holidays in a row without you… Two thanksgivings, two… two Christmases… Two New Years. We rang in the New Year twice without you. Did you know? Did you know what Shiro was thankful for two years in a row? That you were alive.”

 

Keith feels a rock drop in his gut.

 

“How fuck--fucked up is that? Well the first one we thought we were gonna lose you because you were hurt so bad and we were relieved you were alive. It was a good thing to be thankful for, yknow? But this year it’s just… It’s so fucking sad. He said, 'I'm thankful Keith is still out there, even if he's not with us...' It really hurts, y’know? It hurts that this time you chose not to be with us. And still Shiro has nothing but the most love for you in the world.”

 

Keith doesn’t realize he’s crying until he feels tear drop slide down his nose. _Fuck_.

 

“After fucking everything you put us through, you fu-fucking _jackass_ , you fucking--... After everything he still loves you so much, he just wants you to be safe. He just wants you to be okay. We all do…” Lance sniffles, crying into the phone now.

 

“I hope this is worth it, man. I don’t know if we can do another holiday without you…” Lance starts sobbing now and the lump in Keith’s throat swells as he tries to choke back his sobs.

 

On the other end of the phone he hears Hunk’s voice in the distance. “Lance? Hey, buddy, what’s wrong?”

 

“Keith... He’s just... So fucking dumb. He should _be_ here. We need him. Shiro needs him.”

 

The phone must have been set down because they sound far away now.

 

“I know, man. But we talked about this. He’ll be back.”

 

“He shouldn’t have even _gone_.”

 

“I know, I know.”

 

“He’s so dumb,” Lance whines.

 

“I know. Hey, what’s this?”

 

“I called him.”

 

“Ah, how’d that go?”

 

“Voicemail.”

 

“Is.. Is it still recording? Shit, Lance--”

 

The line goes dead.

 

Keith’s chest heaves. He’s never felt like he’s made a bigger mistake in his life. They miss him. And he misses _them_. Knowing that he had them this torn up was one of the worst feelings in the world.

 

Lance’s drunk slurring echoed in his head.

 

“ _We need him. Shiro needs him._ ”

 

And then suddenly Keith thinks he’s found what he’s been looking for.

 

He fucking needs them. He needs Shiro. Shiro is his rock, is his home, is his comfort. That’s the reason he feels more lost than before. He needs Shiro’s patience, his presence, his warmth, and Keith doesn’t fucking understand why it took him almost a year on his own to figure it out.

 

Shiro had told him he didn’t have to do this alone. And Keith should have listened and he feels like such a fool that he didn’t. He can’t deny any longer that he needs to go home -- back to his family, back to _Shiro_.

 

He doesn’t know how he’s going to face Shiro after all of the drama he’s caused. He doesn’t know how he’s going to face his friends either, but he knows he has to. It’s time.

 

It’s time to go home.


	12. XI

Keith packs up the next day and says goodbye to Bethel. She’s sad to see him go, but happy he’s finally going home.

 

“I knew it was just a matter of time,” she smiles at him. She sends him on his way with a packed lunch to eat on the bus and a few sweet treats. They aren’t as good as Hunk’s, but still delicious.

 

He didn’t tell anyone he was coming home. He still doesn't even know what he's going to say to them or how he's going to apologize. He has a lot to make up for and an “I’m sorry I fucked up” isn't going to cut it.

 

He spend the entire unbearably long bus ride thinking of what he’s going to say, but nothing seems good enough. If there’s any language that has the words for how sorry Keith is, he doesn’t know it. He supposes he could grovel at their doorsteps.

 

His bus pulls into its final destination and he steps off into the cold winter air, and he feels like he can breathe again. He’s finally home.

 

Well, almost.

 

Keith needs to call a cab to take him to… somewhere. He supposes to see the gang before going to Shiro’s place. He’s afraid to see Shiro. He’s afraid to see all of them, but Shiro the most. He knows he really hurt him in such a deep way that was worse than the others. He wasn’t ready to see that yet. He isn’t sure he’s ready for his friends to rake him over the coals, either, but he’s conceded to let it happen.

 

He enters their apartment building and it takes everything in him not to turn tail and run back to Arizona, to hide himself away in his bed in Bethel’s spare bedroom and not come back.

 

But he has to face this. He has to face them.

 

He reaches a shaky hand out to knock on the door. It’s six o’clock on a saturday evening and he can smell the food wafting from under the door. Hunk probably made something amazing for dinner and Keith’s about to crash it and ruin their evening. He tries to take a steadying breath.

 

“Huh. Anyone expecting someone?” He hears Lance, muffled through the door, then the sound of a chair moving across the floor.

 

 _You can still run_ , his inner mind tells him.

 

No. No more running. No more fighting this alone.

 

He hears Lance’s footsteps walk up to the door and pause. And the pause drags on. And on. Keith is almost convinced that Lance saw him through the peephole and decided to ignore him. He wouldn’t blame them with all the times he’s ignored their calls and messages. But lo and behold, the door opens. And he can hear a pin drop.

 

Lance is standing at the door wearing an expression of both shock and anger. Keith almost looks into the apartment to see how Pidge and Hunk are reacting, but something in Lance’s gaze won't let him look away.

 

They stand there quietly for a long moment, Keith surely looking like a deer in headlights, too afraid to say anything or even move. He can barely breathe. He just wishes Lance would say _something_ , he can feel the tension in the air taut as a wire and--

 

Lance launches forward and hugs him. Lance _hugs_ him. And before he knows it Hunk and Pidge have run up to hug him, too, three sets of arms crushing the air and the fear right out of him.

 

“You’re lucky the urge to hug you was stronger than my urge to punch you, you jackass,” Lance mumbles, almost crushed as Keith in their group hug.

 

“I’m surprised you didn’t punch me,” he wheezes.

 

“Don’t worry, one of us still might,” Pidge pipes up.

 

They drag him into the apartment and set him on the couch. Then the three of them loom over him like disappointed parents about to punish him.

 

“Well, now that we’ve finally got you, I would like to ask, yet again: What the _fuck_ were you thinking?”

 

There it is, the anger and scolding he was expecting. He tries his best not to shrink away from it.

 

“I… I don’t know. It’s a lot to explain.”

 

“Well, we’ve got all night, buddy. Spill”

 

Hunk takes a seat on the coffee table directly in front of him, giving him a hard look. Pidge and Lance continue to stand over him and glare.

 

So he spills. He tells them everything. He tells them about feeling overwhelmed, the pressure, the constant doubts and insecurities, the ever looming fear of everything falling apart. How everything felt like it was being held together by one thread, and the more things seemingly got better, the more the thread had to hold together.

 

His friends looked at him with some sympathy, but there was still anger there. They were still hurt. And rightly so.

 

“Guys, I… I know saying it isn’t enough. But I truly am sorry. I never wanted to hurt you guys, I never meant to. I just... I just thought this was something I needed to do. And it was a mistake. That’s one of the only things I learned out there, that it was a mistake. All I learned was that you guys are my family. Shiro is my family. And that I don’t have to handle this alone.”  
  
“Awful lot of trouble to learn what I _already_ _told_ you.” God, if looks could kill Pidge would have murdered him twenty times over. But, she was right.

 

“I know. I regret not listening to you, I really do, okay? I just… Maybe it was some messed up lesson I needed to learn on my own.”

 

“Hm. Sounds about right. You’re always too stubborn to listen to people until you learn for yourself,” Hunk says.

 

“Yeah, and you always try to run away from your problems without asking for help. _God_ , I know you say you can’t find yourself but I swear you never left. Same thick headed mullet brain, over here.”

 

 _"I swear you never left"_ … Keith lets himself mull over the words for a moment. It was nice to think that, even with everything stripped away from him, all of his life defining memories and relationships, he’s still the same person at his core.

 

“Don’t you _ever_ do this again,” Pidge says, expression booking no room for an argument. “These last months were hell on us and especially on Shiro. Don’t run away from us ever again. Let us _help_ you, for the love of god. And if you ever hurt Shiro again, I’m going to track you down.”

 

“I’d listen to her. She’s tougher than she looks,” Hunk says crossing his arms. None of them need worry; Keith is _definitely_ going to listen to her.

 

“Speaking of Shiro. Does he know you’re back?” Lance asked.

 

“Um, no. Not yet.”

  
  
“Great, I’ll call him,” Pidge says picking up her phone.

 

“Wait!” Keith yells, standing up. “Don’t, not yet. I… I’m not ready. I don’t know what to say to him, I don’t know what to _do_. I fucked up and I don’t know how to make it up to him.”

 

“Well for starters, tell him you’re here,” Lance says, throwing his arms out dramatically. As if all of Keith’s problems could be solved with that one answer.

 

“Lance, I can’t just--”

 

“ _Yes_ you can! If you can just show up at our doorstep and interrupt our now cold dinner, then you can go see Shiro. Actually, he might not be there, Coran and Allura have been inviting him over for dinner. Man, I hope he’s over there for dinner, if he’s eating cold soup from a can again, I’ll--”

 

“Lance. Rambling.” Hunk interrupts him. Then says to Keith, “Look, I get it. You feel like you really need to do or say something awesome to say you’re sorry because you realize how much you hurt him. Makes sense. But, we promise you, you’re not going to need anything like that. Shiro is such a hopeless sucker for you, all you have to do is show up and he won’t even be mad. I mean, he _should_ be mad, and you _should_ apologize and talk things out. But, even without those things, Shiro will just be happy to see you.”

 

Deep in Keith’s heart, he knows that's true, and it makes his chest hurt. Shiro has such a huge, patient, forgiving heart, and Keith doesn't deserve it.

 

“I know. You’re right, but I just. I don’t know if I can yet.”

 

“How about this. You sit down with us, and we feed you some dinner. You look starving, dude. And then once you’ve gathered up some of your thoughts, we take you home. Okay?”

 

Given that at that moment Keith’s stomach growls and Hunk will not allow him to continue to be hungry, that agreement would have to do.

 

Hunk’s cooking is absolutely delicious, but Keith’s appetite is almost non-existent from the anxiety eating away at his stomach and tying it in knots. He only eats half his plate, and though Hunk is disappointed, he doesn't push him.

 

Keith tries to collect all of his thoughts and feelings he really did, but they just. Keep jumbling in his mind. He can't focus on one particular thing he wants to say other than “sorry”. He can't pin down anything he wanted to bring up, as soon as he thought of one thing, his mind jumped to another. But he's situated in the car on the way to Shiro’s--to  _their_ apartment and he doesn't have time to sort anything out anymore. It's going to be a jumbled disaster, but the time has come. For months, things had built up to this moment. His reunion with Shiro. His friends drop him outside of the building with big hugs and wish him luck and tell him everything is going to work out.

 

And then it's just him and Shiro, a flight of stairs and a flimsy door between them.


	13. XII

He finds himself in much the same position that he was in not long ago -- standing on the outside of a door, trying to find the will to raise his shaking hand and knock.

 

 _You can do this_ , he tells himself. _‘Soon’ is now. The time has come. You’re ready_.

 

Ready as he’ll ever be.

 

He reaches up and knocks.

 

It takes a few moment, then he hears a throat clear, Shiro’s throat clear, as he calls “Just a second.”

 

God… Shiro’s _voice_. He didn’t even realize how much he’d missed Shiro’s voice until now, the sound of it spreading warmth through him.

 

And then the door finally creaks open. And Shiro is standing there in front of him.

 

It’s almost surreal, after not seeing him for months. Shiro, answering the door in his pajamas and his old thin robe with a five o’clock shadow on his face. His eyes are wide and Keith can tell he’s stopped breathing. Keith has, too. It’s like upon them seeing each other, the air was just sucked out from in between them, leaving them  to stare at each other in disbelief.

 

“Keith…?” Shiro sounds breathless, shocked, like he never thought he’d see Keith again. Did he really believe that? That Keith would never come back to him?

 

Everything that Keith had wanted to say to Shiro slips through his brain as soon as he hears Shiro say his name, running like water down a drain.

 

“Shiro, I-- I--” Keith is at a loss for words, the emotion just bubbling up inside of him until he feels the familiar sting of tears in his eyes.

 

Shiro sees the tears beginning to form. He doesn’t hesitate as he steps over the threshold and pulls Keith into his chest. And much like the last time Shiro pulled him like this, Keith sobs.

 

“Shh,” Shiro says as he holds him, “It’s okay. Everything’s okay.” Despite everything, Shiro is here holding him and comforting. After Keith was the one to hurt him, Shiro still tells him everything will be okay.

 

“Shiro,” he chokes, “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”

 

“I know, baby,” and he can hear that Shiro is crying now, too. “I’m sorry, too.”

 

“No!” Keith pulls back and stares hard into Shiro’s eyes. “Don’t apologize! You didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t talk to you, and then I just ran away, I ran away and I didn’t even find what I was looking for, I ruined everything and I _still_ didn’t--”

 

“Keith, Keith, calm down." Shiro reaches up and puts Keith’s face between his hands, one warm and human, one cold and metallic, and both so undeniably Shiro and it Keith fights not to sob again.

 

“I am sorry. And I’m going to tell you why. I understand why you left, okay? You went through something really traumatic and life changing. Anyone would want some time to themselves after that. And I’m sorry I didn’t realize that. I’m sorry you felt the way you did and that I didn’t know how to help. I’m sorry I tried to beg you to stay. I know it was something that was important to you, and you would’ve been more upset if you’d never gone. I’m just glad you came back in the end.”

 

A fresh wave of tears fall because of Shiro’s compassion. Shiro absolutely, in no way, needed to apologize for any of this, but some deep seated empathy had offered one anyway. Keith honestly didn’t deserve Shiro.

 

“N-no, Shiro--”

 

“Shh. How about this. We’re both sorry, okay?”

 

“But--”

 

“Come inside. We’ll talk about it later.”

 

All Keith can do is nod and Shiro pulls him inside and closes the door. They stand in the living room, holding each other, and neither can let go.

 

“I _missed_ you so much, Shiro, I… I just missed you more and more with each passing day, and one day I just realized how _much_ I missed you. One day I realized how much you felt like home.”

 

Shiro hugs him tighter, burying his face in Keith’s hair. “You’ll always be my home. I’d wait for you at the end of the Earth.”

 

“Crazy,” Keith breaths, eliciting a small chuckle from Shiro.

 

“Yeah. Crazy for _you_.”

 

“Oh my god.”

 

Shiro nuzzles into his cheek and comments, “You’re cold.”

 

“Yeah, sorry. It’s all wintery here.”

 

“Hmm, indeed it is. Come to the couch? I’ll warm you up.”

 

“Actually,” Keith says, pulling away a bit to look up at Shiro. “I was wondering if we could warm up in, uh… _our_ bed?”

 

“Whoa. Wasting no time, are we?” Shiro’s eyes go wide a smile plays across his face.

 

“No! I mean-- I just mean, no not like that, just… I’m tired. And cold. And I missed you… Can we just… Lay together?”

 

Shiro's expression turns soft. “Of course.”

 

Shiro leads him to the room and peels him out of his coat, his shirt, his damp sweatpants, down to his boxers. He then does the same and joins Keith under the covers.

 

“Skin to skin contact is good for warmth,” Shiro smirks at him, getting comfy and pressing into Keith.

 

“Hmm, is that what this is?”

 

“Of course.”

 

For a long time they don’t say anything. They just lay in the dark, sometimes spooning, sometimes facing each other. Sometimes Shiro reaches out and runs his fingers along Keith’s cheek like he can’t believe he's there.

 

“Shiro, I… I don’t know how to tell you how so--”

 

“Shhh,” Shiro shushes him. “We’ll talk about it in the morning, okay? Right now let’s just have this.”

 

“Yeah… Okay.” Keith scoots himself in closer to Shiro’s chest, tucking his head under Shiro’s chin. It feels like he _fits_ there. It feels like he belongs there. And feeling for the first time in his new life like he truly belongs somewhere, he lets himself drift off to sleep in Shiro’s arms.


	14. Epilogue

Keith clutches at Shiro’s hand, dragging him into another room when he catches the glint of an old samurai sword.

 

“Ooooh, look how pretty Shiro.”

 

“It’s nice. Not as pretty as you though.”

 

“Ugh. Gross. Please let me enjoy this sword in peace.” He lets go of Shiro’s hand to walk around the display case and admire the sword

 

He and Shiro are on a date at a little history museum in the city. They were currently walking through the Asian exhibits and Keith was absolutely enamored with the warrior displays.

 

“This is just… So _cool_ , Shiro. I love this.”

 

“I already know, babe.” Shiro smirks.

 

Keith pouts. “Not fair. You’re using my hidden locked away memories to ‘surprise’ me with nice dates you already know I’ll like. You have it too easy.”

 

“Well, we could just leave, if you want.”

  
  
“No! Look, there are more weapons over here!”

 

He dragged Shiro around every exhibit, reading all of the plaques and taking in all of the little tidbits they offered.

 

It’s been a few months since Keith came back, and things are  _so much_ better. He doesn't regret leaving as much; he still doesn't think it was the best decision, but he’s accepted that some time to himself was something he needed. He mostly just feels sorry for how much it hurt Shiro. But they’ve both worked to move past that. It was all part of the journey to get to _here_.

 

Here, as in holding Shiro’s hand in museums, and even grabbing his butt to watch Shiro blush and look around to see if anyone saw. Here, as in looking at Shiro and knowing everything is alright. Here, as in not feeling like everything was about to collapse. Here, as in being able to look at the photo album and listen to Shiro tell stories and not feeling like he’s lost somewhere. Here, as in moving his cacti back into the master bedroom and realizing they don’t need the desert to grow.

 

Here, as in _home_ ; as in comfortable for the first time, and happy, and like he can look at Shiro and not feel confused or guilty or anxious. He feels in love, and at peace, and at home.

 

If waking up next to Shiro and being able to smile about it without wondering where or how he fit in was the “back to normal” he was waiting to get to, then he’s there.

 

“Shiro,” he says, opening the camera on his phone. “Take a picture with me.”

 

Shiro hums and leans in and kisses Keith’s cheek as he takes the picture. It’s definitely cute, probably gag worthy to some, but it makes Keith smile.

 

“How about a real kiss?”

 

“Anything for you.”

 

Keith leans in, lips softly touching Shiro’s, tongue just barely sliding in, then lingering for a moment before pulling away.

 

The look of love and happiness on Shiro’s face as he pulls away mirrors exactly what he feels in his heart. The journey to get to this point was long and hard, but that made the emotions all the more sweet.

 

“Shall we keep going?”

 

Keith will always keep going with Shiro by his side.

 

“Yes,” he says. “I’d like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think :). Find me on [twitter,](http://twitter.com/marmorasblade) or [tumblr](http://fakegenjimain.tumblr.com) and be sure to check out [maikasa's](http://twitter.com/sun_god_rising) art!
> 
>  
> 
> Expect some Shiro POV scenes coming up! featuring: shiro angsting, hiding his emotions, and card nights with allura and coran.


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